Beyond The Horizon (21 page)

What neither was aware of was that Shannon had just entered the store to purchase a few necessities not provided by the women of the fort. Her anger sizzled when she saw Claire and Blade engaged in intimate conversation, Claire’s hand resting on Blade’s bulging bicep, her violet eyes wide with appreciation—and something that could only be interpreted as invitation. When Blade made no attempt to discourage Claire’s brazen conduct, Shannon did a slow burn.

How dare Blade flirt with Claire after making love to her as if he really cared! Shannon bristled indignantly. Did it mean nothing to the womanizing savage? She whirled abruptly and left before either Blade or Claire even noticed that she had witnessed their shameful display. A few minutes later Clive Bailey returned.

Immediately Claire stepped away from Blade, pretending great interest in the bonnets hanging from a pole. Blade nearly laughed aloud. Claire’s prompt dismissal made it perfectly clear that further contact between them must be in private, away from prying eyes and gossips. Would she be content with quick, furtive kisses and gropings, he wondered curiously, or would she demand all he had to offer? The question was moot, for he never intended to find out.

“There you are, Blade,” Bailey said, eying the pair suspiciously, then immediately dismissing his outlandish thoughts. “This pays you in full.”

Blade pocketed the money, nodded a curt thanks, tipped his hat politely at Claire, and strode from the store.

“Now, Miss Greer, what can I do for you?”

“I’ll come back later, Mr. Bailey,” Claire replied. Entranced by the way Blade’s trousers clung to his muscular thighs and buttocks, she licked her dry lips and hurried after him. “I suddenly remembered a prior engagement.” She swished out the door in a swirl of ruffled petticoats.

The first day of school dawned bright and cool. Notices had been posted for several days and Shannon stood eagerly at the door to greet the students from the fort. She was pleasantly surprised to see two Indian boys amidst the white faces. They had somehow learned of the school and came out of curiosity. The children ranged in age from seven to eighteen, and Shannon eagerly anticipated the challenge of teaching so diverse a gathering.

After introductions were made all around, she determined that only seventeen-year-old Tommy Pierce and fifteen-year-old Leroy Jones would present any problems. Both were big, burly boys, much taller than herself, and they were already bullying the rest of the children, particularly the two Indian boys, Blue Feather and Running Elk. Thus far the Indian boys appeared well-behaved and attentive despite jeering from the rest of the group.

Shannon had seen little of Blade these past several days, except from a distance. She’d seen him ride out with patrols several times, and despite the fact that she’d been in her own quarters now for days, he’d not come to her again. Not that he’d find a warm welcome, Shannon grumbled sourly. She was still incensed over the outrageous way he had flirted with Claire Greer in the trading post.

The first week of school passed with blessed little trouble. For the most part the children were eager students, a bit boisterous perhaps, but badly in need of formal learning. Some hadn’t attended school in two or three years. If not for Lieutenant Goodman, Shannon would have been content with her job. When he wasn’t out on patrol or engaged in duties he made a habit of waiting until school let out, then dropping by to “chat” with her, and usually ended up walking her home. Shannon was certain Claire didn’t know about it or she’d have the violet-eyed witch breathing down her neck.

That Friday after school was dismissed, Lieutenant Goodman appeared outside the schoolhouse at the usual time. After Shannon waved the children off, he followed her inside without waiting for an invitation.

“You appear to enjoy this job, Shannon,” he said. His eyes followed her greedily as she went about her chores.

“I do,” Shannon replied, picking up supplies and depositing them in cupboards. “Sometimes I feel as if I was meant to teach school. Is there something you wanted, Ronald?” Since he had been so insistent about it she had begun calling him by his first name.

“Why, yes, I suppose I do,” Goodman grinned ingratiatingly. “Are you planning to attend the dance a week from Saturday?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Shannon admitted. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to a dance and it sounds like great fun.”

Several young officers had already approached her offering escort, all of which she politely declined. She thought it wise that she attend her first dance with the Greers. She was so looking forward to it that she even had the dress she would wear picked out. All she needed to do was buy some new ribbon to trim the bodice.

“Good. Save me a dance. I’m taking Claire, but I can dance with whom I please once I’m there. Claire and I aren’t engaged yet, even if her father does expect a proposal soon.”

He sent Shannon a speaking look, as if to say he’d be more than willing to give Shannon a tumble behind Claire’s back if Shannon was willing. She wasn’t.

Shannon was searching her mind for a way to rid herself of the obnoxious lieutenant when noise from some kind of a commotion outside captured their attention. “What’s happening?” Shannon wondered aloud, walking to the door and peering out. “There appears to be a crowd gathering down the street.”

Goodman rudely pushed past her in order to get a better look. “I’ll find out.”

“Wait for me!” Shannon was right behind him, her curiosity piqued.

“Make way!” Goodman ordered, shoving his way through the knot of people gathered in the middle of the dusty parade ground. They seemed to be staring at something lying at their feet. Shannon followed close behind Goodman as a path opened for him.

When she saw what had caused the disturbance, she froze, a strangled gasp rushing past her lips. “My God! No!”

A man lay on his stomach on the ground, an arrow protruding from his back. His spent horse stood nearby, its head lowered, blowing and heaving from exhaustion. It appeared the poor animal had been ridden hard and long with little rest or food.

But that wasn’t the worst shock about seeing the man lying near death in the square. What struck Shannon forcefully was the fact that she knew the man. It was young Todd Wilson from the wagon train.

“Todd! Todd Wilson!”

Then suddenly Blade appeared from nowhere, kneeling beside Todd, supporting his body as he turned him over with gentle hands. Todd groaned and opened his eyes. They were nearly swollen shut by a vile mixture of dust and blood from a gash over his eyebrow. The expression on Todd’s face was so bleak, so utterly despairing that Shannon couldn’t stop the cry of dismay that slipped past her bloodless lips.

“Indians,” Todd gasped from between lips parched and bleeding from lack of water. “It happened on the Bozeman Trail. They attacked at dawn several days after we left Fort Laramie.”

“Todd, what about the Johnsons? And your family? And all the others?” Shannon asked. Anguish and fear twisted her beautiful features into a grimace of pain and disbelief.

“Shannon,” Todd said, recognizing her for the first time. “Thank God you weren’t with the wagon train. Dead, they’re all dead.”

“No! Oh God, no,” Shannon sobbed, turning away to hide her grief.

“What do you make of it, Blade?” Goodman asked as he-orouched beside Blade.

“Sioux,” Blade replied tersely. He abhorred the thought that all the people he’d become fond of were dead. Could Mad Wolf be behind this massacre? he wondered bleakly. If so, he’d go out of his way to make damn certain it never happened again.

“Do you know the boy?” Goodman asked.

“Todd Wilson was traveling to Oregon with his family.”

“Todd, is everyone dead?” Goodman asked.

“The bastards carried off my sister and Callie Johnson, but the rest are dead—my family, Howie, everyone. They left me for dead, but I fooled them. They stole all the stock, but missed old Cletus here, who was off foraging. Thought I was a goner for sure until he came wandering back a day or two later.”

“Hang on, son, the doctor from the fort is on the way,” Blade said gently. “Think hard, Todd—to your knowledge is everyone dead, even the Johnson baby?”

The question was never answered, for Todd had passed out. Serious loss of blood complicated by dehydration had sent him spinning into oblivion. It was a small miracle he’d survived this long.

Mercifully the doctor arrived with a pair of stretcher bearers close on his heels. With military authority the doctor quickly dispersed the crowd and knelt to examine his patient. Shannon watched in shocked horror as Todd was lifted onto the stretcher and carried away. Blade was quick to note her distress and offered comfort without a thought to how it might look.

“Don’t worry, Shannon, he’s in good hands.”

Shannon’s face was so white, so drawn, that Blade feared she was in shock, but the sound of his voice seemed to bring her out of her state.

“Oh Blade, I can’t bear it! All my friends—gone. And poor Nancy and Callie.” Suddenly a terrifying thought occured to her. “What about little Johnny Blade?”

It seemed only natural and right for Blade to offer the solace of his arms as he opened them wide. Without considering the right or wrong of her decision, Shannon stepped into his embrace, sobbing into his chest.

Goodman stood with his mouth open, shock and disbelief transforming his handsome features into a mask of hate and disgust. He never would have suspected that a well-bred young lady like Shannon Branigan would seek solace from a savage. But that was exactly what she was doing. Had some kind of bond developed between them during those days they were alone on the prairie? he wondered. No, it must be merely because the half-breed had once saved her life, and it was only natural now that she turn to him in a moment of grief. The girl needed to be set straight on what was proper and what was not.

“Get your gear together, Blade,” Goodman rapped out with authority. “I want you along with the burying detail. We’ll leave within the hour. Let’s hope it’s not too late to save the women.”

With great reluctance Blade set Shannon aside. When she made sounds of protest low in her throat, he gave her a little shake and said in a voice only she could hear, “Think of how this looks, Little Firebird. Don’t give the fort food for gossip.”

Shannon was too distraught to care what people thought, but common sense prevailed as she silently watched Blade walk away. Only then did she realize that Lieutenant Goodman was still there, staring at her with stern disapproval.

“I’ve warned you before about the half-breed, Shannon, and your improper behavior where he is concerned,” he lectured. “It’s a good thing the townspeople dispersed before witnessing so disgraceful a demonstration. Keep in mind that you are a schoolteacher and your morals should never be in question.”

Shannon bristled with indignation. “You don’t have to preach morals to me, Lieutenant, I’m fully aware of my responsibility regarding the children.”

“Don’t be angry, Shannon, I’m only telling you this to prevent you from making a terrible mistake. The breed isn’t the kind of man ladies become involved with. You’re new to the West and don’t know the rules and the harsh realities of frontier life. Think about what I’ve said while I’m gone.” He turned abruptly and left her standing in the middle of the square.

“Are you going after the women?” Shannon called after him.

He halted, turning back to answer her. “It depends on Colonel Greer. We’re a mere handful of men gathered here at Fort Laramie, and we have all we can do to make safe the hundreds of miles of Oregon Trail under our jurisdiction, most of it in the heart of the Sioux Nation. If it’s within our power, we’ll bring the women back, but I can’t promise we’ll succeed.”

Blade scouted ahead of the patrol, his ears attuned to the slightest sound, his eyes alert for signs of danger. Blade strongly suspected that Mad Wolf and his renegades were behind the vile attack on the wagon train, and it occurred to him that if Mad Wolf hadn’t gotten the weapons he’d never have attempted so daring a raid. Killing innocent women and children was a cowardly act. It was an attack like this that led to the Sand Creek Massacre in ‘64, when the army killed one hundred and fifty peaceful Indians in retaliation for Indian atrocities.

That night the patrol bedded down on the prairie and Blade deliberately chose a spot a short distance apart from the main party to spread his bedroll. Lieutenant Goodman approached Blade as he prepared to settle down for the night.

“How soon before we reach the wagon train?”

“A couple more days at least,” Blade calculated. “We can travel twice as fast as the wagon train. I’ll leave at dawn and scout ahead.” Blade turned away, expecting Goodman to leave. When Goodman stood his ground, Blade faced him squarely, one black eyebrow arched. “Is there something else?”

Blade waited for Goodman to speak, his eyes coldly assessing.

“Damn right! You’re damaging Miss Branigan’s reputation every time you’re seen with her. That display today was uncalled for. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Is that an order, Goodman?”

“If you want to keep your job, stay away from Shannon Branigan. I have the colonel’s ear and a word from me is all it will take to send you packing.”

“Don’t threaten me, Goodman,” Blade said evenly, stifling the urge to put the cocky lieutenant in his place. It was imperative that he contain his anger until his investigation was done here.