Beyond The Horizon (17 page)

Would everyone assume she’d been raped by the Indians? Lord, what a fine mess!

“Of course not, dear,” Molly commiserated. Her tone suggested she was not really convinced by Shannon’s denial. “You must call us Molly and Claire. And please pay no heed to Claire, she’s much too forward. You take your time bathing while I see to supper. Claire can keep you company if she minds her manners. When you’re finished, you’ll find your clothes in those trunks against the wall. Your friends left them for you. That’s how certain they were that you’d be found and delivered safely by that half-breed they hired as wagon master.”

Claire waited until Molly left the room before sidling closer and saying, “I envy you being alone with the half-breed.” She shivered delicately. “I saw him walking across the parade grounds. He might be half savage, but he is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. He looks so strong and fierce, just thinking about him frightens me.”

“If you’re talking about Blade, he saved me from Mad Wolf. I’m not frightened of him at all.”

“Blade, is that his name? Somehow it fits.” She snickered at the picture his name evoked. “Did he force you? Was he a savage lover?” She licked her lips in eager anticipation of Shannon’s reply.

“Really, Claire,” Shannon chided reproachfully. “Nothing happened. It’s due entirely to Blade’s timely intervention that I returned unscathed. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

“I was merely curious,” Claire said peevishly.

Miffed, she walked to the window, pretending interest in the comings and goings outside while Shannon finished her bath.

“There he is now, going into Papa’s office.”

It was difficult to pretend indifference in the face of Claire’s barrage of explicit questions and avid curiosity. It was a good thing the pretty brunette couldn’t hear the wild thumping of Shannon’s heart. Would Blade relate all the intimate details of her rescue? Or would he be discreet and not mention exactly how he managed to bring Shannon out of Yellow Dog’s village with so little difficulty? She couldn’t help but fret, for it took little imagination to know how she’d be treated if people suspected she’d bedded an Indian.

Blade approached Colonel Greer’s office, having been summoned only moments before. He realized he’d be questioned closely by the post commander and hoped his answers would prove satisfactory. He hadn’t had time yet to call on Clive Bailey, but he intended to do so the moment he left Colonel Greer’s office. He’d been delayed so long getting Shannon to the fort that Blade feared Bailey had already disposed of the contraband weapons. He also wondered if Wade Vance, Blade’s contact, had arrived yet. His question was answered when he was ushered into Colonel Greer’s office and saw that the colonel was not alone. Major Vance had indeed arrived and was seated in a chair across the desk from Colonel Greer. Lieutenant Goodman was also present, standing at ease before his superiors.

“Ah, Swift Blade, come in,” Colonel Greer said, motioning Blade forward. “You know the lieutenant, and this other gentleman is Major Vance. He has been newly assigned to Fort Laramie and is my second in command.”

Blade acknowledged both men with a nod, his face carefully composed to display no recognition for the major he had known and respected for many years.

“Lieutenant Goodman tells me his patrol came across you and Miss Branigan about thirty miles east of the fort. We know you followed the young lady after she was kidnapped by Sioux renegades, but what happened? Was it difficult retrieving her from Mad Wolf?”

“Miss Branigan was taken to a Sioux village by Mad Wolf, who wanted her for his wife,” Blade explained. He carefully refrained from using Shannon’s first name. No Indian would be granted such outrageous familiarity. “Fortunately I reached the village in time to stop Mad Wolf’s plans for the young lady.”

“Just how did you accomplish so amazing a feat?” Goodman asked, openly skeptical. “From what we know of Mad Wolf, he is a hot-headed renegade who makes his own rules.”

“Since he had taken Miss Branigan to Yellow Dog’s village, he was obliged to adhere to council rulings. I petitioned Yellow Dog and the council for Miss Branigan’s release and they ruled in my favor.”

It was a fairly uncomplicated explanation, but Blade had no intention of delving into the details regarding Shannon’s release.

“Why would they do that?” Colonel Greer asked curiously. “Do you know Yellow Dog personally? Are you from Yellow Dog’s village? Why haven’t we seen you around the fort before?”

“I lived with my father, who was a trapper,” Blade said, telling half-truths. “When he died, I scouted for a while with the army at Fort Kearney, then went to St. Louis where I hired on as guide for a wagon train.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the council decided in your favor,” Goodman objected, convinced that Blade was lying.

“Give him a chance,” Major Vance, entering the conversation for the first time. “The young man did a brave thing by rescuing Miss Branigan. Few men would challenge Mad Wolf’s authority.”

“Well?” Goodman prodded, leveling Blade an austere glance. “Tell us how you performed this miracle.”

“I spent my early childhood in Yellow Dog’s village,” Blade confessed. “My mother was Sioux. Mad Wolf is not well liked in the village. He has his followers, but most are hotheads and outcasts like himself.”

“Your mother is dead?” Greer asked sharply.

“Yes,” Blade lied, for some obscure reason unwilling to divulge his mother’s whereabouts and reveal his relationship to Yellow Dog.

“We are grateful Miss Branigan has been returned safe and sound,” Greer allowed.

“Whatever method of persuasion you used certainly earns our gratitude,” Vance added with a hint of admiration.

Lieutenant Goodman slanted Blade a penetrating glance. “I sense you’re not telling us everything.”

Blade stiffened. “Are you calling me a liar?” His features hardened to stone, his mouth a thin slash in his swarthy face. He didn’t like the cocky lieutenant, not one damn bit. There was something about him he didn’t trust.

Goodman recognized the quiet menace in Blade’s dark features and was too cowardly to tangle with the powerful half-breed, fearing he’d find himself on the receiving end of his implacable anger.

“I meant no harm by that remark, Swift Blade,” he blustered. “No one is questioning your veracity. We just want the whole story.”

Major Vance hid a smile behind his hand. He hadn’t been at the fort long, but it did his heart good to see the brash lieutenant quail before Blade’s steely-eyed glare. Goodman was the colonel’s fair-haired boy who could do no wrong. Personally, Vance didn’t like the man, and he was pleased to note that Blade shared his feelings. His judgment hadn’t failed him yet.

“That is enough, gentlemen,” Greer warned sternly. “I think you’ve told us all we need to know, Swift Blade. What are your plans now? The wagon train has already hired another guide, and there will be no others through till next spring.”

Blade sent the colonel a searching look. “Are you offering me a job?”

“There is one available if you are interested,” Greer said slowly. “Are you?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“We need a scout. Our last died from a rattlesnake bite. The job is yours if you want it.”

Blade pretended to ponder the offer, glancing at Major Vance from beneath shuttered lids. The major’s barely discernible nod provided him with an answer.

“I reckon I’ll just take you up on the offer, Colonel Greer.”

Blade smiled, offering his hand. Greer did not hesitate, accepting Blade’s handshake to seal the bargain.

“See the quartermaster—he’ll assign you quarters. If you need a horse, choose one from our stables.”

Blade nodded curtly, turned, and left the room.

“I fear you’ve made a mistake,” Goodman advised, frowning. “I don’t trust the breed. The Sioux are a savage lot who don’t easily adjust to civilization.”

“Give the man a chance,” Vance allowed. “He looks trustworthy to me. If there had been a problem, I’m certain Miss Branigan would have spoken up.”

Colonel Greer nodded sagely and Lieutenant Goodman reluctantly dropped the subject, vowing to keep an eye on the breed, for something told him the man wasn’t what he appeared.

Blade didn’t complain when he was assigned a small room behind the blacksmith shop that obviously wasn’t fit for either officer or ranking NCO. At least he’d be alone, with no one keeping track of his comings or goings.

But when Blade went to select a horse, he received the surprise of his life. There, munching contentedly on hay with the other animals, was Warrior. Placing two fingers in his mouth he let loose a shrill whistle. The gray’s ears perked up, neighing in recognition as he trotted over to greet Blade. Blade scratched Warrior’s head, speaking to him in a low voice.

“He seems to know ya, mister.” Blade spun around as the stablemaster appeared at his side.

“He should, I’ve owned Warrior many years. We’ve traveled a long way together. How did he get here?”

“Wandered in a couple days ago. Figured someone would claim him sooner or later. I’m Sam Daniels.”

“I’m called Swift Blade, but just Blade will do,” Blade offered. “I just hired on as scout. Never thought I’d find Warrior. Was he alone?”

“Yep, and he made hisself right at home, almost as if he was waitin’ on ya. Was he stole?”

“Lost him in a tornado a few days back. I assumed he was dead. Glad to see I’m wrong. I missed the old boy.”

“You mean I’m stuck here for the winter?” Shannon lamented. “Whatever will I do? Are you certain no other wagon trains will come through this year?”

Shannon was seated at the supper table with the Greer family, enjoying an excellently prepared meal while Molly clucked over the small portions she selected. She had already been with the Greers several days and Colonel Greer had promised to look into the possibility of getting her to Idaho.

“I know how disappointed you must be, Shannon, but I fear there is nothing to be done about it. It’s already September, and the mountain passes between here and Boise will soon be impassible. Besides, the Boseman Trail has been under constant attack these past few months. We have received word that woodgathering details from Fort Phil Kearny have been ambushed by bands of twenty or thirty renegades. Forts Fetterman and Reno report the same conditions. Scant security exists outside their walls, and I warned Wilson to choose another route.”

“Frank Wilson?”

“Yes, he was elected captain of the wagon train after Clive Bailey left their company.”

“I have good friends among the emigrants—are they in danger?” Shannon asked fearfully.

“There is always danger in Indian country,” Greer said tactfully. “We tried to sign a treaty with the Sioux for the right to travel the trail but the chiefs walked out of the negotiations. Anyone who travels the Boseman Trail faces peril and possible attack.

“You’ve heard of the Fetterman massacre, haven’t you?” he continued. Shannon shook her head. “William Fetterman was an impetuous young captain at Fort Phil Kearny who was sent out with eighty men to relieve a wood detail under attack. A wily young Sioux named Crazy Horse lured the patrol into an ambush and wiped out the entire force, including the woodcutting detail.”

The Colonel’s story so unnerved Shannon that she fell silent, chewing her food thoughtfully. If she had to stay at Fort Laramie, there were many things she had to consider. It looked as if she was marooned for the winter—at least until early summer when the wagon trains started arriving. Fortunately she had some money in one of the trunks the Johnsons left off, but she’d need it to buy passage on the next wagon train. Kindhearted Molly Greer offered her a place with her family for as long as she chose to stay, but Shannon didn’t want to impose on the family for several long months.

“Colonel Greer, is there no way to earn my keep?” Shannon asked. “I don’t feel comfortable imposing on your kindness.”

“Nonsense, dear, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like,” Molly smiled warmly. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve opened our home to visitors. That’s the way of things on the western frontier.”

“I appreciate your generosity,” Shannon demurred, “but surely there is something I can do.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, my dear,” the Colonel blustered. “We’re pleased to have you.”

“Papa, didn’t you say you were looking for a schoolteacher?” Claire hinted innocently. “Shannon would be perfect for the job.”

“I don’t think Shannon would …”

“Schoolteacher?” Shannon asked, her interest piqued. “Tell me about it.”

“If you insist. I’ve been trying to lure a teacher out here for some time to teach the dozen or so children of officers attached to the post. It appears no one is interested in teaching school in the heart of Sioux country.”

“I am,” Shannon surprised herself by saying. “I’ve been given a good education and feel qualified to apply for the job. There is a salary, of course?”

“Of course, and a small house of your own next to the schoolhouse. “Are you saying you’d consider it?”

“Oh, yes. I’d rather be useful than sit here all winter doing nothing,” Shannon assured him.

“Well,” Colonel Greer considered, “if you’re sure. We certainly could use a teacher. I tried to interest Claire in the job, but it didn’t appeal to her.”