Beyond The Horizon (49 page)

“Claire, what in God’s name are you doing here? I thought you were visiting in the East.”

“I was,” Claire said, rudely pushing her way past Shannon. Shannon had no option but to shut the door behind her as a blast of frigid air rippled her skirt and chilled her ankles. “I returned just yesterday and decided to call on you before going on to Fort Laramie.”

“What is it you want?” Shannon asked with cool disdain. The woman had caused her and Blade trouble enough to last a lifetime.

Claire’s lip curled in derision as she ran her eyes insultingly over Shannon’s rounded form. “So, you’re going to bring another half-breed into the world,” she observed crudely. “From the looks of you, it won’t be long.”

“Just say what you’ve come to say and leave,”. Shannon said tersely. It took all of her willpower just to be civil to the witch.

“I hear you lost your ranch to fire.” Claire’s smirk set Shannon’s teeth on edge.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Ignoring Shannon’s remark, Claire continued relentlessly. “Rumor has it your husband is off trying to talk the Sioux into returning to the reservation. I’m surprised the governor saw fit to trust a half-breed with so important a mission. A savage like Blade is as likely to join the Indians as he is to persuade them into something they obviously don’t want to do.”

Claire shivered delicately, pretending fear and revulsion, but she didn’t fool Shannon one bit. The avid expression on Claire’s face and the feral light in her violet eyes gave mute testimony to her attraction to Blade.

“I could have had Blade once,” Claire bragged, “but I wanted nothing to do with him. He begged me to—be friends with him, but wisely I refused.”

Shannon knew the woman lied. “I don’t believe you, Claire. If this is what you came to say, you can leave now.”

“The reason I came was to tell you what your interference has done to my life. Ronald Goodman was tried in Washington, found guilty, and sent to prison. I attended the trial.”

“It’s no more than he deserved.”

“We could have had a wonderful life. But for you and your husband, I could have had wealth and power, everything I’ve always wanted in life.”

“I’m sorry for you, Claire, but not for the reasons you think. I’m sorry because you feel no remorse for what Goodman did, because you encouraged him, and because you’re a cruel, vindictive woman. Your parents are good people. I wonder what happened to produce a daughter like you?”

Uncontrollable rage seized Claire and she struck out viciously. Unfortunately Shannon was standing close enough to receive the brunt of Claire’s blow as she reeled backwards. Unable to maintain her balance she tottered dangerously for a moment, then crashed heavily to the floor. Something inside her seemed to snap as pain rippled a path from back to front, tearing her apart. No one had to tell Shannon her baby was about to make its somewhat premature entrance into the world.

Another contraction caused Shannon’s face to contort with pain. Claire stood over her, gloating, making no effort to help.

“Claire, help me up,” Shannon pleaded, extending a hand. “The baby—the pain—”

“Your pain is nothing compared to the agony you caused me,” Claire sniffed unfeelingly. “I refuse to lift a finger in your behalf. It’s no more than you deserve.”

“Then get Doctor Clarke, or stop by Elizabeth Davis’s house and tell her I need her.” Another strong contraction prevented further speech.

“Do it yourself,” Claire returned with careless disdain.

“For God’s sake, Claire, the life of an innocent child is at stake. Forget what you feel for me.”

“The world doesn’t need another half-breed. Goodbye, Shannon. I’m glad we had this little chat.”

Claire opened the door and the force of the wind took it from her hand and banged it against the wall. She didn’t bother closing it, vanishing swiftly into the swirling snow that blew unhindered inside the house, chilling Shannon to the bone.

Dragging herself painfully across the floor, Shannon found the strength to pull herself up, using the wall for support. With great difficulty she forced the door shut, the wind nearly defeating her. The weather had grown bitter, and Shannon realized that it would be a grave mistake to venture out in search of help now. She also knew the birth of her child was mere hours away, and no one was likely to come calling to check on her in such foul weather. Nor could she depend on Claire to send help.

Marshaling her meager strength and pacing herself between contractions, Shannon gathered towels, sharp knife and twine and took them into her bedroom. Then she filled a basin with water, dropped the knife into it and set it to boil on the stove in her bedroom. With several younger brothers and sisters, Shannon wasn’t ignorant of the birthing process—was quite knowledgeable, in fact, having watched Callie Johnson give birth. She prayed for an easy birth, for beyond simple procedures she knew nothing. Then she prepared for a long wait. At times the pain caused her to grit her teeth and cry out, but fortunately it was still bearable.

Surprisingly, she found time to change into a gown and robe and build up the fire in the stove. Truth to tell, Shannon was amazed at her presence of mind despite such crushing pain. She hadn’t expected the pain to be so overwhelming and tried desperately to be brave. But she was inexperienced, alone, and afraid. Morning turned into afternoon, and a lowering sky and murky snow brought on a strange twilight. By late afternoon, Shannon’s pain was nearly constant and the need to push urgent within her. Intuition told her it was time and she couldn’t do a blessed thing to stop it.

Carefully she carried the basin of hot water to the bedside table, then removed her robe and lay down. She had expended the last of her endurance, accomplished more than she thought humanly possible given the circumstances. Only the knowledge that Blade expected her to deliver their child safely kept her sane. Then she offered up a short prayer, placing herself and her child in God’s hands. She hadn’t lost the deep faith instilled in her since birth and now she relied on that faith to see her through this ordeal.

The pain was terrible now. She was bearing down and grinding her teeth in agony. Though the room was warm, cold sweat dotted her brow and soaked her gown. She strained, and was rewarded with more pain. From deep in her throat a scream formed, bursting past her white lips in a shrill explosion of sound. She had no idea that the sound carried above the whine of the wind, echoing through the house to two people who stood just outside the front door, braving snow and ice to bring Shannon a message.

“My God, what is that?”

William Bright looked at Elizabeth Davis with something akin to horror.

“Shannon!” Elizabeth cried with growing alarm. “Something is wrong with Shannon!”

Bright pounded on the door, calling Shannon’s name.

Receiving no reply, Elizabeth turned the knob, surprised to find it give beneath her fingers. She rushed inside, Bright close on her heels. Shannon was nowhere in sight. Then a strangled cry coming from the bedroom sent Elizabeth rushing in that direction. Bright hung back, unwilling to enter Shannon’s bedroom unless he was needed. Elizabeth took one look at Shannon, saw that she was in the last stages of labor, and called over her shoulder, “Get the doctor, quick!”

Exhausted but happy, Shannon held her son close to her heart. So much love went into making this precious scrap of humanity, Shannon thought wistfully, wishing Blade had been there to witness the miracle of birth.

By the time Doctor Clarke arrived, Elizabeth had everything well in hand. Grady Farrell slid into the doctor’s capable hands minutes after his hasty arrival. Hugging her son to her breast, Shannon closed her eyes, ready to slide into a well-deserved rest. Elizabeth’s soft voice pulled her abruptly back from the edge.

“Shannon, Mr. Bright would like a few words with you if you’re not too tired.”

“Is it about Blade?” Shannon asked eagerly, her weariness slipping away.

“Why don’t I let him tell you. May I send him in?”

“Oh yes, please.”

William Bright tiptoed into the room, stopping beside the bed and smiling down on Shannon and the babe. “Blade will be surprised and pleased with his son. I’m glad Elizabeth and I arrived in time—although I’m certain you could have handled everything with your usual competence.”

“You’ve heard from Blade?” Shannon asked anxiously.

“Not directly,” Bright admitted, “but our spies reported just today that the Indians have dismantled their camp and left for the reservation. We owe your husband a debt of gratitude, young lady. I don’t know what he said to convince Red Cloud, but the entire populace of Wyoming is grateful. Incidentally, the food and provisions we promised are on their way to the reservation.”

“Then Blade should be on his way home!” Shannon exclaimed happily.

“I would think so,” Bright concurred. “Get some rest now, my dear. I’m looking forward to congratulating Blade in person.”

Elizabeth Davis arranged to stay with Shannon during her recuperation, or until Blade returned. As it turned out, Shannon was on her feet and caring for herself and little Grady long before Blade arrived. Since her delivery was uncomplicated, she regained her strength quickly and Elizabeth was able to return to her own family at the end of two weeks. Shannon was so certain Blade would show up momentarily that she refused Elizabeth’s offer to remain longer.

Two weeks slipped into three, then four. Grady was a month old, and a terrible fear seized Shannon; intuition warned her that something unexpected and dreadful had happened to Blade to keep him from returning to her. December had arrived and no one had heard a word from Blade. Shannon was afraid—so afraid.

It wasn’t as if she wanted for anything. Between the Brights and her other friends, Shannon was well provided for. What truly amazed Shannon was the change in the attitude of the townspeople. Those same people who had treated her and Blade with contempt had abruptly reversed their thinking since word spread about the great service Blade had performed in their behalf. Some of the neighbors and others who had once snubbed her on the street stopped by with kind words and gifts of food, apologizing profusely for their despicable behavior. But nothing or no one could heal the ache in Shannon’s breast caused by Blade’s prolonged and mysterious absence.

At first Shannon blamed Blade’s continued absence on the bad weather. But as time passed an unexplained forboding replaced all logic. She knew that nothing, absolutely nothing save death or imprisonment, would prevent Blade from returning in time for his child’s birth. A feeling beyond mere intuition told Shannon that something beyond Blade’s control was preventing his return.

Two days later a break in the weather brought a visitor to Shannon’s door. Hope leaped in her breast as she invited William Bright into her cozy parlor.

“You’ve heard from Blade! Is he all right?” Small talk was unnecessary as Shannon went directly to the crux of her concern.

“The secretary’s office just received word from our Indian agent that Red Cloud and his people reached the reservation. Blade is with them.”

“What!” Shannon was stunned. Why would Blade accompany Red Cloud to the reservation when he knew she was close to giving birth? It just didn’t make sense. “Why would he do that?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Bright said as gently as possible. “According to information we received, Blade is being held hostage until the provisions promised to Red Cloud arrive at the reservation.”

“But you sent them long ago!” Shannon cried, her voice shrill with alarm. “Or did you lie about that?”

“We didn’t lie, my dear. They were sent.”

“Then where is Blade?”

“The supplies never reached the reservation. We think they were stolen by renegades. The men driving the supply wagons were found dead on the prairie half-way between here and the Black Hills.”

“What are you going to do about it? Surely you’ll not sacrifice Blade—not after he did the territory so great a service.”

“No, my dear,” Bright assured her. “We’re grateful to Blade, very grateful. The governor has ordered more provisions to be sent. It’s rather difficult buying cattle in mid-winter, but it’s not impossible. It may take some time, however.”

“What if Red Cloud won’t wait?” Shannon asked frantically. “What if he is angered by what he perceives as false promises? What will happen to Blade?”

“Shannon, I don’t think Red Cloud will harm Blade.”

“You don’t know that!”

“True, but I think Red Cloud is only using Blade as a weapon to insure that his demands are met,” Bright surmised. “Try not to worry.”

“Not worry! You ask the impossible.”

“I’ve brought cheerful news along with the bad,” Bright said, his face suddenly aglow. “It’s official. Women now have the right to vote and hold public office. It’s a stride in the right direction for the great territory of Wyoming. The first in the entire nation. And you, my dear Shannon, can be proud of the work you did in behalf of women the world over.”

“That
is
good news,” Shannon said slowly, her enthusiasm dimmed by her concern over Blade. “I worked for the cause out of deep conviction, not for any glory it might bring me. But about Blade—is there nothing you or the governor can do to help him?”

“Nothing that isn’t already being done. Our Indian agent has been instructed to inform Red Cloud that more provisions are on their way and to demand Blade’s immediate release. We can only hope for the best.”