Beyond The Horizon (22 page)

Deliberately, Blade stretched out in his bedroll and turned his back, putting an abrupt end to the conversation.

Two days later they found the wagon train. Vultures swooping low over the charred wreckage showed them the way. It was just as Todd Wilson described, only worse. Everyone was dead. Men, women, and children, all slaughtered, most scalped. It was a grisly sight, causing even the most seasoned troopers to turn away, sickened.

Under Goodman’s direction, the burying detail set to work immediately. The terrible stench of decaying flesh rose above the site like an evil cloud, forcing the men to cover their noses and mouths. Not only were the emigrants murdered, but their goods had been ransacked and their valuables stolen. During the search for victims, Blade was quick to note that the Johnson baby was not among the dead. A survey of the patrol confirmed his theory that Callie had somehow managed to take her child with her. Realistically, Blade knew that there was only a slim chance that they were still alive. It would break Shannon’s heart if little Johnny Blade Johnson was dead.

“Do you have any idea who is responsible for this?” Goodman asked Blade once all the dead had been buried.

Blade held up an arrow similar to the one found in Todd Wilson’s back. “Renegade Sioux who are unhappy on the reservation and angered by the influx of people moving West. See this notch?” He held the arrow under Goodman’s nose, pointing to the feathers at the end of the shaft. “There is only one man I know of who notches his arrows in this, manner.”

“Who is that?”

“Mad Wolf.”

Blade thought he saw something stir in Goodman’s eyes, something he was unable to decipher. “That red devil!” Goodman spat. “He will pay for this atrocity. He belongs to Yellow Dog’s village, doesn’t he?”

“He acts independently,” Blade explained. “It isn’t fair to blame Yellow Dog, or all Sioux in general, for this attack. If you start killing indiscriminately, you’ll be no better than Mad Wolf.”

“Stick to what you know, Blade, and leave the soldiering to me. Move out, men!” Immediately the patrol prepared to mount up and ride out.

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?”

“Away from here,” Goodman said, wrinkling his nose in obvious distaste. “Surely we can find a better camping place than this. I hope you’re as good a tracker as you claim.”

“We’re going after the renegades?”

“Damn right!”

Blade had been tracking Mad Wolf a full day. It was noon now and Goodman had just sighted a stand of cottonwood trees on the south bank of the Platte River and signaled for a break. Mad Wolf had crossed the river several times but Blade had been able to pick up his trail with little difficulty. His keen perception told him there were about twenty renegades in the raiding party. Hoof prints indicated that the women rode double with two of the Indians, lending Blade hope that they were still alive. But knowing Mad Wolf as he did it was difficult to guess what condition they were in.

Blade downed a hasty meal, then scouted out the area while the others rested. Within minutes he found signs indicating that the renegades had camped nearby, and other signs that led him to believe a struggle had taken place. In short order he discovered scraps of material that looked like pieces of women’s clothing. He pointed them out to Goodman, who swore to avenge the atrocities. After they had eaten, Goodman ordered the patrol back on their horses, but Blade lingered behind, still reading signs. Suddenly he froze, all his senses coming alive. A strange sound coming from a clump of bushes close to the river bank set his hair on end.

His dark eyes swept the surrounding area, but he saw nothing. Yet obviously something had distracted him. On cat’s feet he crept toward the bushes, his hand hovering above his gun. Nothing stirred. Could he have been mistaken? No, he told himself, his senses hadn’t failed him yet. Then he heard the soft mewling sound again, renewing his faith in his instincts. Someone or something was hidden in the bushes. Perhaps only a wounded animal, he told himself, not daring to hope.

He reached the river bank and knelt, spreading apart the thick branches of undergrowth. What he discovered was no wounded animal—no animal at all. His shout of jubilation caused the patrol to about-face and rush to his side.

“What is it?” Goodman asked, sliding from his horse and hunkering down beside Blade.

“I found the Johnson baby.” Blade picked up the small bundle with surprisingly gentle hands.

“Is he alive?”

“He looks all right, probably just hungry. But I’m no doctor.”

“What do you think happened?”

“He probably got in the way and Mad Wolf dumped him, expecting him to die.”

“And the women?”

“We can only assume they are still alive.”

“Then we push on.”

“What about the baby?”

Goodman stared at Blade in silent contemplation. “Obviously someone has to take him back to the fort.”

A short time later, after Blade had painstakingly spooned water down little Johnny’s parched throat, one of the privates rode back to the fort with the baby strapped securely to his chest, a precaution suggested by Blade. Then the patrol resumed their march, more determined than ever to kill the savages responsible for so many deaths.

Blade found Mad Wolf’s camp the next day while he was out scouting alone. The renegade had set up camp in the shadow of a ledge jutting out from a hillside. It was obvious from his lack of vigilance that he thought no one from the wagon train had survived to alert the soldiers from the fort.

Blade crouched in rocks above the campsite, making a visual search of the area. He spotted the two women lying motionless on the ground. From a distance Blade couldn’t judge whether they were dead or alive, only that they appeared to have been abused both sexually and physically. Edging closer, Blade heard the men arguing about who would have them first tonight. Having heard more than enough, he melted into the shadows to alert the patrol.

The patrol waited to attack until the Indians were seated around the campfire, smoking and drinking whiskey taken from the wagon train. The attack caught the renegades completely by surprise as they dove for their weapons. Some were killed outright in the ensuing battle, and when the melee ended, Blade was dismayed to discover that Mad Wolf and several of his cohorts had slipped away during the height of battle. Only the dead and dying remained.

“See to the women, Blade,” Goodman barked as he turned to check on his own wounded.

With trepidation Blade approached the women, recalling that neither Callie or Nancy had moved during the battle. That alone gave him fair warning of what he would find. Hunkering down, he turned over the woman closest to him. It was Nancy Wilson. She was dead, having suffered more abuse at the hands of Mad Wolf and his renegades than she could tolerate. Realizing that she was beyond human help, Blade moved on to Callie. He was heartened to discover she still lived, though covered with filth and battered nearly beyond recognition.

“Callie, can you hear me?”

At first Blade received no answer, but when he held his canteen to Callie’s bloodless lips she drank greedily. “Easy, you’re safe now.”

Just the sound of a male voice and Blade’s hands on her wrenched a scream from Callie’s throat. “No! No! Please don’t hurt me again!” Then she started shuddering and shaking uncontrollably. Seeing Blade’s swarthy face poised above her sent her teetering on the edge of sanity.

Blade held her tightly, crooning words of comfort into her ear. “It’s Blade, Callie, Swift Blade. You are safe now, no one will hurt you again.”

A long time elapsed before he was able to get through to her. She ceased struggling and crying out but continued to shudder.

“Blade?”

“Yes, Callie, you’re safe now.”

“My baby, my baby is dead. Howie is dead,” she moaned over and over.

“Your baby is alive, Callie. I found him and sent him back to the fort. You will join him soon.”

“How are the women?” Lieutenant Goodman stood beside Blade, having seen to his wounded and issued orders for their care.

“Nancy Wilson is dead, but I think Callie will make it with proper care. She should be taken back to the fort as soon as possible.”

“You’ll be taken care of, Mrs. Johnson,” Goodman assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Immediately Callie jerked away, fear and terror twisting her features. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!”

“It’s all right, Callie, Lieutenant Goodman won’t hurt you. He’ll send you back to the fort with one of his men.”

“No, please, can’t you take me? I don’t want to go with anyone else.”

“Perhaps that would be best,” Goodman mused thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed and an arrested look came over his features. “Obviously the woman trusts you.”

“What about Mad Wolf?”

“We’ll find him. And if we don’t someone will pay for this.”

Goodman’s insinuation that someone, even innocent Indians, would be held responsible for Mad Wolf’s vile atrocities, frightened Blade. However, there was not much he could do about it, only pray that Goodman would find Mad Wolf. Callie’s life depended on how fast Blade could get her back to Fort Laramie and a doctor.

Two days later Blade rode into Fort Laramie. Callie sat slumped against him in the saddle. A curious crowd gathered around them when Blade reined in in front of the infirmary and dismounted. Ignoring the questions flung at him, he quickly carried Callie inside. After a terse explanation and a comforting word to Callie, he left her in the doctor’s expert care. The reason Blade didn’t linger was because he felt the need to find Shannon without delay. He wanted to be the one to tell her how and in what condition they had found Callie. When he left the infirmary he spied Shannon crossing the parade ground, having already heard that Blade had returned with one of the women. He strode out to meet her. “Blade, what happened? Who did you bring back?” “It’s Callie, Shannon. I left her with the doctor.” “Thank God. I’m going to her, she’ll need someone,” Shannon said, pushing past Blade.

“Wait!” Blade grasped her arm, “stopping her in mid-stride. “First let me tell you how I found her. Did the private arrive with the baby?”

Suddenly Shannon’s face lit up. “Yes. After Johnny was cleaned up and fed he seemed no worse for his ordeal. Mrs. Cramer generously offered to nurse him along with her own three-month-old son. Please, tell me about Callie and Nancy. Is Nancy being brought back by someone else?”

“Nancy is dead. She couldn’t take the abuse,” Blade said, his voice somber. “Thank God Callie is made of stemer stuff. She’s in shock over Howie’s death and needs a great deal of care and understanding. Knowing that her child is well and safe will help heal her.”

“Poor Nancy,” Shannon lamented. “I’ll do all I can to help Callie recover. Why did this happen to her? It could have been me. Why didn’t Mad Wolf abuse me when he had me?”

“Mad Wolf wanted you for his wife,” Blade told her, “that’s why he allowed none of his friends to touch you. It would have killed something inside me to see you in the same condition as Callie.”

Shannon’s heart thumped a wild tattoo inside her breast. Did Blade’s words mean he cared for her? More importantly, did she care for him? The answer was a resounding yes. She never would have surrendered to him so easily if she didn’t care. She wasn’t the kind of woman who offered herself to just any man. She was finally able to admit that when Blade made love to her it mattered little that he carried the same blood in his veins as those men who had killed all her friends and abused Callie.

“Go to Callie now, Shannon. She’ll need a friend. I’m anxious to speak with Colonel Greer, and he’ll be expecting a report. Mad Wolf escaped and the patrol went after him.” He turned to leave.

“Blade, please stop by tonight, I need to—talk to you.”

An arrested look came over Blade’s features. “Shannon, you know what happens when we’re alone for more than a few minutes.” If his words were meant to discourage, they failed miserably.

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Shannon said with firm resolve.

Blade searched her face for several tense minutes before answering. “Very well, but remember, you’re as much to blame for what happens as I am. God knows I tried.”

Darkness and shadows played tag with the surrounding plains and hills when Shannon heard Blade’s footfall on the porch. She flung open the door before he knocked and he stepped inside. The air outside was crisp and ripe with the promise of winter, and Blade moved close to the stove to warm his hands.

“I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly the other day,” Blade said, “but it wouldn’t do for Claire and Molly Greer to find me in your bed. How is school?”

“Forget school for a moment. I want to know what you and Claire found so interesting to talk about in the trading post. She was absolutely enthralled with you. She looked as if she could devour you.”

“You saw us?”

“I stayed only long enough to see you engaged in intimate conversation. When she put her hands on you I left. I had no idea she could be so brazen.”

“Jealous?” A hint of amusement brought a twinkle to his dark eyes.

“Of course I’m not jealous!” Shannon replied huffily. “You could have bedded Claire right there in the trading post for all I cared. It surprised me that you two even knew one another.”