Dakota Dream (8 page)

The men saluted their commanding officer as he retreated. Then Barney excused himself, leaving Jacob to wonder if Custer had believed his story. Was the Lakota plan too feeble to get past a shrewd soldier like the Long Hair? On edge, he pushed out a pent-up sigh, knowing there was little he could do but proceed as planned and hope his purpose was not discovered.

Jacob ran his hand through his short-cropped hair as he waited for Barney to return. He was scarcely used to the absence of his braids, and the trip to the post barbershop that morning had left him feeling completely stripped, naked somehow. He smoothed the sides of his hair, amazed to find several natural waves rippling through his fingers as the lieutenant returned with refreshments.

"Cup of coffee?"

"Ah, thank you." Jacob accepted the steaming liquid and waited until his new friend began sipping his own brew before he dared put his lips to the hot cup. Wrinkling his nose as the first taste of bitter coffee assaulted his tongue, Jacob withheld comment.

"The gals ought to be pouring in any minute now," Barney observed as he scanned the room. "How long's it been since you saw a woman, much less danced with one?"

The image of the crazy woman, damp and writhing beneath him came to Jacob's mind. He could almost feel her soft lush mouth opening to him, seeking his secrets as he probed hers, wanting him, even if her response was drug-induced. Angry with his wandering mind, concerned that he hadn't thought first of Spotted Feather, he grumbled, "It has been so long since I saw a woman, I cannot remember."

"Get ready, then. Your poor tired old eyeballs are about to get a feast fit for a king. We've got some of the prettiest gals on both sides of the Missouri right here. Only trouble is, they're all either married or about to be."

"That does not concern me."

"It doesn't?" Barney thought a minute,
then
laughed. "I get it. You're planning to sneak down to one of the hog ranches after the dance, aren't you?"

"No, I have not considered that either. I am content to observe this party."

"Well, I'm not. I'm going to grab any female who'll let me and dance till my boots fall off."

Jacob chuckled along with the excited officer,
then
followed his gaze until he abruptly clamped his mouth shut and stood at attention.

"Here they come," Barney whispered under his breath.

The double doors swung open, and several women poured into the room. Most of them were dressed in plain gowns of navy blue or pale green wool serge trimmed with black braid or lace. Several had gone to the trouble of curling their hair, leaving the back loose and flowing, but the majority had wound their tresses into tight buns at the nape of the neck. All of them carried some kind of offering—a small cake, a few sweet biscuits, or a bag of hard candy.

Observing the parade, Barney turned to Jacob. "These ladies are mostly from Suds Row, but if the river isn't too agitated, we get a few single gals coming in from Bismarck, too."

"Is this town, Suds Row, near Bismarck?"

"Sorry." He laughed. "I keep forgetting you're not familiar with army life. Suds Row is up near the infantry post. It's the quarters for the company laundresses. Their husbands and beaux are usually from the troops, enlisted fellows like you."

With a short nod, Jacob returned his gaze to the ladies. Most had removed their wraps, revealing several low-necked, short-sleeved dresses of gauzy material. Noticing the red arms and rounded figures, the unmistakable signs of strength and a hardy constitution, he remarked, "These laundresses are very sturdy. They will make strong wives for the soldiers."

Cocking an eyebrow that was thicker than his mustache could ever hope to be, Barney laughed. "I guess they're strong, all right, but it doesn't matter around here if they're weaker than the coffee a day before the supply wagon's due. Women are scarce, and every one's a princess. Wait till you see the officers' wives if you think these gals are a sight for sore eyes."

Making a brief survey of the women, Jacob decided he could wait, but he said, "So far, you brag with cause."

"I told you we had the prettiest girls." Barney slapped his leg,
then
rubbed his hands together as the first of the officers' wives appeared in the doorway.

Wrapped in a thick wool coat of navy blue, Elizabeth Custer stepped into the room and accepted her husband's outstretched elbow. Several enlisted men immediately approached them, removed the women's wraps, and whisked the garments off to the first sergeant's room.

"That's the general's wife," Barney informed his new friend as they observed the proceedings, "but I've never seen the beauty coming in behind her. Good gravy, would you look at that gal."

His instructions were hardly necessary. Jacob stood rigid, his accelerating pulse pounding hard enough to strain the buttons on the collar of his new uniform.

It was the crazy woman. Why was she still here? She should have been returned to Bismarck days ago. Jacob's jaw twitched as he ground his teeth in frustration. He'd been a fool to bring her here, a weak-hearted, dim-witted fool to have taken her to Fort Lincoln, of all places. He should have turned her over to the other warriors and never given her plight another thought. Now he might have to find a way to silence her in a roomful of soldiers.

Jacob took a couple of backward steps, ducking out of her view, but kept his gaze firmly trained on her profile. He struggled to consider his options, but his mind was preoccupied with the vision his eyes lavished upon him. When he'd plucked her from the icy waters, he knew he'd stumbled on a rare creature, a woman whose delicate features would be cherished by all, regardless of race or background.

But she'd been unconscious then, lacking any spark of life or intelligence. By the time the crazy one had awakened in his tipi, the sun had bedded down for the night, robbing him of the full impact of her beauty. Even from across the room Jacob could see the mischief, the twinkle in her dark brown eyes. Her magnificent golden-red hair, which had been wild and strongly curled by morning's light after he dropped her at the post, was now pulled high on her head and arranged in long spirals cascading down her back. She was alive with joy, robust, and full of good health.

She was stunning.

And more dangerous than any adversary he'd ever encountered.

Jacob could almost hear her gay laughter as she greeted the other guests, treating soldier and laundress with the same good-natured enthusiasm. General Custer, he noticed, stood very close by her, protective and solicitous. His hatred of the man growing along with his fear of discovery, Jacob continued to stare, transfixed, at the crazy woman.

Suddenly she turned and faced him.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he watched, horrified, as she whispered something to the Long Hair.

General Custer looked up at Jacob. Then the pair began walked toward him.

His eyes darting from side to side, desperately searching for an avenue of escape, Jacob backed against the refreshment table. Custer and the woman were directly between him and the only exit.

Feeling trapped, like a wild animal caught in a snare, Jacob clenched his teeth and reached for the scabbard at his hip. He hesitated, fingering the handle,
then
made a decision as the pair continued to approach.

Jacob pulled the blade from its leather sheath.

 
Chapter Four

Dominique shivered.

She could
feel
those eyes, could almost reach out and touch a gaze so intense that doing so would most certainly have scalded her fingertips.

She slowly scanned the crowd. Her fresh good looks, coupled with the fact that she was General Custer's niece, had drawn many a long stare since her arrival at Fort Lincoln. Scores of otherwise intelligent and mannerly gentlemen were falling all over themselves in an effort to gain her attention. But this was different. And this was almost frightening.

Her search came to an abrupt end. Dominique's gaze was drawn into a pair of sapphire-blue eyes glittering at her from across the room.
Caught, unable to turn away, she felt as controlled and completely helpless as she'd been while swirling down the raging Missouri.
Again she shivered.

He was simply the most overtly masculine man she'd ever seen. Those eyes, intelligent, intense, and thoughtful, seemed to look through her,
into
her. She felt unmasked, exposed.
And utterly fascinated.

Turning her head, but unable to glance away from the intriguing soldier, she whispered to her uncle, "I'd love a cup of coffee. Do you mind if I meet the rest of the officers and their wives later?''

"Of course not, Nikki.
You're here to enjoy yourself." Preparing to point out the refreshment table and give her
her
leave, Custer looked up and noticed his newest recruit studying them from across the barracks. "Actually, a cup of coffee would suit me, too. Besides, there's a fellow over by the table I think you should meet. You two may have a few things to discuss." Then he started toward Private Stoltz with his niece following along behind.

The first thing Dominique noticed when she was finally able to look away from the man's mesmerizing features was the glint of a knife blade turning over and over in his palm. As she and the general approached him, her expressive brown eyes widened with alarm as much as with anticipation.

"Private Stoltz," Custer said as he reached Jacob's side. "I've brought someone to meet you. But first," he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper, "please be so kind as to sheathe your knife. I understand you're new to the post and may not realize how skittish the ladies can be when weapons are displayed. You'll notice our larger arms are stowed under the tables. You're welcome to retain your knife, but please, keep it out of sight."

Tiny rivulets of perspiration gathered on Jacob's forehead and began a slow tattletale march down his brow. Was the Long Hair trying to disarm him so he could gain the advantage? Had the crazy one seen enough of his features to recognize him and alert the post commander to the deception? He glanced at the stunning woman, expecting to find an accusing finger pointing him out as an impostor, but her demeanor suggested curiosity rather than animosity. Could it be that his identity was still unknown? If it was, how long could he hope for it to remain so?

In spite of his reservations, Jacob took the sanest course and returned the knife to its leather holster. "I am sorry, sir. I did not think of the ladies."

"You will before this night's over," Custer promised with a chuckle. Turning to Dominique, he brought her forward. "This is Private Jacob Stoltz, Nikki. He's one of the soldiers who escaped from the Sioux yesterday. I thought you two might have a few things in common."

Again he laughed,
then
completed the introduction. "Jacob, this young lady is the daughter of my oldest sister Julia, who has since departed. Her name is Dominique DuBois. She lives with her father in Michigan."

Jacob's newfound manners deserted him. He struggled to hide a gasp of surprise, then cleared his throat and collected himself. "She is of your blood?"

Custer raised a brow and said, "An interesting way to put it—but, yes, Dominique is my niece."

Jacob quickly extended his hand, his fingers board-stiff, and dropped his voice to an unnaturally low tone.
"A pleasure."

Dominique cocked her head as she acknowledged his greeting. Why did he seem so familiar?
she
wondered, the fine down on her arm rising with foreboding.
Had they met somewhere before?
Dominique made the mistake of looking up into those riveting blue eyes for the answer, and suddenly she felt naked all over again.
Stripped as bare as a winter landscape.
But this time she felt no chill. This time her flesh burned with the heat of an August sun.