Sarah's Heart (15 page)

“Well see about
that.” He plopped his hat back atop his head and turned to his men. Secure the
prisoner on his horse. We’ll take him back to Fort Leavenworth
and see if the quartermaster can identify him as the scoundrel who helped
himself to the stolen supplies.

“But…no…wait…”
Sarah’s shoulders sagged.

“Good day, Miss
Collins.” The officer made a slight bow, spun on his heel and remounted.

Sarah watched
helplessly as the men tied Wolf’s hands and threw him astride Scout. She
dropped her valise and ran to his side. Peering up at him, she clutched his leg
while her stomach twisted into a knot. “What can I do to help? They can’t just
take you away and leave me out here alone.”

His brow furrowed.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do. Wait for me. I’ll get back…at least try
to, as soon as I can.”

Sarah’s tears
mingled with dust stirred up by the departing horses, and she swiped the grit
from her cheeks as the last riders disappeared over the hill. What in the world
had gotten into
her.
Instead of showing concern for
him, she’d only displayed worry over her situation. After everything he’d done
for her, she had to help him.
But how?
She didn’t even
know where they were taking him.

Muted sunlight
filtered through wooden shutters, giving Sarah just enough light to count the
marks on her makeshift calendar. In the room where she slept, two rows of cots
lined opposite walls adorned with various religious icons. A large cross hung
near her bed, and pictures of Christ and the Virgin Mary added color to the
drabness of the room. For the moment, she enjoyed the peace and quiet of the
emptiness and pondered her future.

 
The daily prayer calls she attended did little
to bolster Sarah’s belief that Wolf might return. Twenty-six days had passed
since the cavalry took him away, and her hope quickly faded. At Father
Brouchard’s suggestion, she assisted the nuns with the children. The task
helped pass the days, but the nights seemed endless. Each time she closed her
eyes, her mind filled with thoughts of Wolf, and while trying to minimize the
depth of her loneliness, she realized he’d become much more than just a
traveling companion. Sleep was sporadic and restless, at best, when she finally
succumbed to exhaustion.

Sarah’s moment of
privacy was interrupted by the three young charges
who
shadowed her every movement. She put aside her tracking materials and smiled at
the dark-skinned trio standing at the foot of her bed. “Oh, don’t tell me it’s
that time again.” She cocked her head and smiled.

 
The moment Sarah
stood,
one of the little girls sidled up and hugged her leg. Sarah took the little
one’s hand and led the way outside while the other two youngsters followed. As
had become custom, every day they picked wildflowers and then tramped up the
hill to the cross, leaving their pungent offering in memory of the unknown
people resting in the graves peppering the area.

 
Sarah knelt next to a small grassy mound and
deposited a colorful bouquet. She couldn’t shake the notion that something
horrible had happened to Wolf. Fort
Leavenworth, she’d
learned from Father Brouchard, was about ninety miles away and where they’d
taken Wolf. If he’d proven his innocence, he should’ve been back by now. Maybe
he had cleared himself and decided to go on to Independence without her.

Her exhaled breath
came out in a sigh. What of her? Would she spend the rest of her days here at
the mission? The frolicking children provided a much-needed reminder that there
were much worse places to be.

 
From the knoll, her gaze drifted to the
horizon and the blazing orange sun hovering well above it. She raked her sleeve
across her brow, wishing now she’d worn her hat to confine the long hair
heating her neck. In brief respite, she lifted the tresses away from her skin
while squinting through spiraling heat waves into the distance. Two riders approached.
As the figures drew closer, it became clear it was one rider leading a second
horse—most likely one of the many traders or travelers who frequented this hub
of the Oregon
and Santa Fe Trails. She turned her interest back to the children, clapping her
hands to get their attention.
“Time to wash for supper,
penoje’k.
They smiled at her use of the Potawatomi term for children
that she’d learned from the sisters at the mission. The little ones scrambled
to her side.

As they trudged
along the grassy path back to the mission, the unmistakable spots of a painted
mare caught Sarah’s eye. She hurried the children inside, handing them off to a
passing nun, and then ran around to the front. Her heartbeat echoed in her
ears.

It had to be Scout
tethered to the hitching rail alongside a black horse with a patch of white
just below its forelock. Both wore no saddle, and the dappled mare greeted her
with a friendly nicker. Sarah approached, brushed her hand down the animal’s
muzzle and turned toward the church entrance.

Wolf stood in the
doorway, his dark hair hazed gray with dust and his left eye swollen. Blue,
purple and yellow hues tinged his cheek, but the bruising did little to detract
from his handsome face.

Sarah ran to him,
flung herself into his arms, and hugged his neck. “Oh, am I ever glad to see
you. I was worried sick you wouldn’t come back.”

Sensing him stiffen,
she realized her forwardness and quickly backed away, fixing a crooked grin on
a face that burned with embarrassment. “Forgive me. I’m just so excited you‘re
here.” She nervously picked at her fingers.

He smiled then
winced, dropping the puffy lid of his injured eye. “I would have been back
sooner, but the army took its time in proving I wasn’t who they thought I was.”

“Thank God, they
finally believed you.” Sarah blinked back happy tears.

“Oh, it wasn‘t my
word they trusted. The quartermaster was on leave and the only person who could
identify the man who stole the rifles and ammunition. Luckily, my description
didn’t fit the details he’d provided for the wanted poster. I’m missing a scar
running the length of my face, and my eyes are the wrong color. I never thought
I’d be so grateful to have hazel ones.”

“Or me so thankful
to see them again.”

Still reveling in
their moment of closeness, but pained by his obvious discomfort at her show of
affection, she took a composing breath. “You must be so tired. Come in and wash
up.”

“How are
you
?”His
gaze drifted over her.

 
“The people here have been wonderful to me. I
couldn‘t have been in better hands.
From the looks of your
eye and cheek, you didn‘t fare nearly as well.”

“Just further proof
that half-breeds aren’t any more appreciated than full-bloods.” He opened his
mouth, working his jaw back and forth. “The beating is a reminder from the
guards in the stockade that I don’t measure up to their standards.”

Sarah reached to
touch his bruised face, but he grasped her wrist, holding it in mid-air. “It’s
all right, I’ve gotten used to it over the years. It’ll heal.” He gave a half
smile and released her. “I sure would like something to eat.”

* * *

Wolf held her arm
for a moment before letting go. He wanted her to touch his face—to caress his
cheek, but why stir hope when there was none. They came from two different
worlds, and the beating he’d taken served as a reminder he dared not invite her
into his. His ribs ached from riding all day after repeated punishing jabs at
the hands of his captors. His face hadn’t taken the worst of it, but Sarah
didn’t need to know that. She’d only fret, and like he told her, he’d heal.

Those lonely nights
spent lying in a mixture of dirt and hay, penned inside reinforced walls like a
mad animal made him question whether he’d ever see her again. It was Sarah’s
face that came to him in restless sleep, and her voice that encouraged him to
be strong. Until the day he found her alongside the road, he’d questioned his
existence. But helping her survive gave his life meaning for the first time and
allowed him to dream, if only for a little while.

Over the past few
days, the agony of riding with injuries had lessened with each mile closer to
St. Mary’s. His biggest fear had been that somehow Sarah had found a way to
leave without him. His spirits soared the moment he laid eyes on her, and then
sagged again, knowing she’d never truly be his. At least he’d see her to Independence as he’d
promised and introduce her to his friend. He planned to enjoy what moments he
and Sarah had left together.

“Where’d you get the
other horse?” Her voice swept into his thoughts.

He chuckled at the
absurdity of how he’d become its new owner. “The army figured they owed me
something after….” He nearly mentioned his beatings.
“Blacking
my eye.
They wanted to give me money, but I asked for the animal
instead. His name is Star, and he’s all yours.”

Sarah clapped her
hands. “Wonderful! We won’t have to ride double anymore.” A worried furrow
appeared in her lovely brow. “You
are
still taking me to Independence, aren’t you?”

Her beauty knotted
his heart like a fist. He’d take her to where the land ended and the giant
waters began if she wished, but he just smiled through his pain and nodded.

She tugged on his
arm. Let’s get you fed...”

Wolf heard nothing
more of what she said as they walked toward the kitchen. He saw only the
movement of her full, bow-shaped lips and imagined how they might taste. In the
middle of the prairie, he yearned for food to fill his rumbling belly, but
right now if only he could savor her kiss, his hunger would be sated.

* * *

Sarah gave Father
Brouchard a quick hug, thanked him for the food the nuns had packed and for the
old saddle he found for her in the barn. Wolf fastened her valise to one side
of the leather skirt and secured the bedrolls behind the cantle. His
parfleches, holding his few belongings hung alongside Scout’s neck. Wolf walked
around and shook hands with the priest.

“Thanks again,
Father. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

 
Sarah smiled and nodded, then pulling her hat
snug against her head, stepped up into the stirrup and swung her leg across
Star’s back. Sitting a strange horse stirred familiar nervous feelings as she
recalled the fateful day she suffered the snakebite while trying to mount Scout.
As far as Sarah knew, Wolf had no idea she’d left him for dead and tried to
steal his horse. Thank heavens Wolf hadn’t died because of her reluctance to
help him. But how long would she suffer from the guilt?

“May God see you
safely to your
destination.
” Father Brouchard’s voice
sliced into her thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, she smiled at him and
waved at the sisters and children who stood in the doorway. She’d miss the
little Indian girls, but working with them had given her a good taste of
something she enjoyed. Perhaps she could find a teaching job in Independence.

She reined Star away
from the hitching rail, nudging her heels into his side until he pulled even
with Scout. Wolf stared into the distance, seeming unaware of her presence. He
draped an arm across his middle.

“Is something
wrong?” she asked.

He shifted his
weight, reaching to pat Scout’s neck, and cast a smile that wasn‘t very
assuring. “No. Everything is fine.”

Accepting his word,
she shared stories with him about the Potawatomi children and the time she’d
spent with them, but he showed little interest, seeming lost in thoughts of his
own. She continued talking until her mouth grew dry, then removed her canteen
from the saddle horn and took a long draw of water.

They rode in silence
until she stood in the stirrups and stretched her legs. “I have to tell you
that I much prefer riding with a saddle. It‘s kinder on the backside and not
nearly as abrasive.”

“And I choose to
ride without.” His first words since leaving the mission replaced his
occasional muted moans. “I like to feel the animal beneath me.”

She studied his
profile, watching for signs of discomfort. Something more than his eye bothered
him. “Are you positive there isn’t anything wrong?
You‘ve
been unusually quiet.”

“I guess I’m just
tired.”

“Maybe we should
stop for camp earlier than planned.”

“That might be a
good idea, but only because there’s a perfect spot not far from here with
plenty of shade and a nice stream. I’ve stopped there before.”

Even with a saddle,
she hadn‘t mastered the rhythm of Star‘s gait.
“How many more
days before we get to Independence?”

“We’re about ninety
miles out
probably
nine or ten days at this pace.”

She heaved a sigh.
“That long?
As much as I hate to admit it, those days without
riding while you were gone have softened me.
I could stand an early rest
myself.”

If she wasn’t
mistaken, she thought she saw a fleeting look of relief cross his face.