A Journey of the Heart Collection

by Colleen Coble

  “Ben’s going to be mad.”

  “You tell him to stay away from me and Morning Song.” She nodded to the privates who had followed her, and they all crashed back through the thicket to the trail.

  Isaac and the detachment were just rounding the crest of the knoll as they arrived. Isaac whistled when he saw Morning Song’s face. “Ben do that?”

  Sarah nodded, her lips tight. “Thanks for keeping him busy.”

  “No problem. We’d better hurry, though. He’ll be after us any minute. He said something about going home for lunch. As soon as he sees she’s missing, he’s going to be hunting for her.”

  “He’ll know where to look. Labe saw us.” She quickly told him and Jacob the full story as they kicked their horses and galloped toward the safety of the fort.

  When they reached the fort, Morning Song insisted on going to the Indian encampment. “I must see my father. He will wish to know.”

  Sarah and Jacob exchanged a long look. This could cause a major incident.

  Sarah helped Amelia hang up clothes on a line strung around the living room. The scent of lye soap stung her eyes, and she rubbed her reddened hands in the folds of her skirt. “I think I should go check on Morning Song. She should have been back by now. What if Ben waylaid her?”

  “Jacob had a couple of soldiers watching. I don’t think he could get her.” Amelia put on her cloak. “I’m going to the sutler’s store for a few things. Want to come?”

  She shook her head. “I want to wait here for Morning Song.”

  With the house empty, she paced the floor and waited. The cannon boomed as the soldiers went through the flag-lowering ritual. Maybe Ben was going to let Morning Song leave without protest.

  Then a fist came down on the front door so hard that a picture on the wall by the door fell to the floor. Ben bellowed from the other side. Sarah picked up the picture. She just wouldn’t answer. Maybe he’d go away. Her gaze went to the doorknob. She didn’t remember locking it after Amelia left.

  She looked around for a weapon, but nothing was in sight.

  “Where is she?” he shouted.

  Sarah bit her lip and said nothing. The doorknob began to turn, and she caught her breath as the door opened. Cold air rushed into the parlor, then Ben burst inside.

  Sarah took a step back. “Get out of here, Ben. How dare you show your face here after what you did to Morning Song?”

  His face reddened. “She is my property. No one complains if I discipline my horse, now do they? This is none of your business.” He strode across the floor and caught her by the arms before she could even flinch away. He took her chin and tilted her head up as she struggled to get away. “I like it when you fight me,” he whispered.

  She stopped her struggling instantly, and he laughed again before releasing her. “Run away, little rabbit. But you won’t escape me. I have plans for you.”

  Her pulse jumped in her throat. He was terrifying.

  He leered at her, then stomped back out the door. “I’ll find her, Sarah. She’ll wish she’d stayed where she belonged. And you’ll wish you’d stayed out of it.”

  Sarah let out a shaky breath as the door banged behind him. How had she ever thought he was attractive and kind? She shuddered. The door burst open again, and she flinched. But it was Rand.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, close to tears. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was afraid of Ben. He was truly mad. “He’s l-looking for Morning Song,” she stammered, then burst into tears.

  Rand crossed the room in one stride and pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right, Green Eyes. We won’t let him take her.” He caressed her hair until the storm of weeping was past.

  “I’m sorry,” she gulped. “I don’t know what came over me.” She was very aware of his hand on her hair. That hand tightened on the back of her neck when she looked up.

  Rand swallowed hard when she put a hand on his cheek. She searched his face and saw confusion mixed with a tenderness she’d hoped to find for weeks. “Rand,” she began. But the door opened and Amelia rushed in. She’d heard the story at Suds Row.

  Rand stepped away quickly, and the moment was lost. Again.

  ONE

  EARLY MARCH 1866

  The morning sun glinted on the patches of remaining snow as Sarah Montgomery hurried along to the Sioux encampment. Soldiers practiced in the big parade ground lined by fort buildings, and the sound of bugles pierced the cold air.

  She rounded the last building and stopped in her tracks. An exodus of the Indian encampment was in full swing. Horses pulling travois of dismantled teepees and belongings packed the road north. She searched the throng for her friend Morning Song. There she was on a big buckskin. Sarah waved and called her name.

  Morning Song slid from the horse’s back and met her at the end of the procession. She was fully recovered from the beating she’d taken from the hands of her so-called “husband” in November.

  Sarah hugged her. “What’s happening? Where are your people going?”

  “We go to meet up with Big Ribs. The elders were all too ready to talk of war after what Ben did.” There was no lilt, no joy in Morning Song’s voice. “I cannot stay here. Ben will find me if I remain.”

  The wind blew across the parade grounds, and Sarah shivered. “But you’re safe here. The soldiers will protect you now.”

  Morning Song released her and stepped back. “I must go with my people. Thank you for all you have done for me, Sarah. I will never forget you.”

  A lump formed in Sarah’s throat. “That sounds like good-bye.”

  “I hope to see you again, my friend, but . . .” Morning Song looked down. “I fear our people will be at war soon.”

  “We will always be friends, Morning Song.”

  The young woman nodded. “My mother waits. I must go.” She hugged Sarah again, then pulled herself up onto the horse’s bare back and rode to join the line of moving horses.

  Sarah watched them go with a profound sense of sadness. At least Morning Song was out of Ben’s clutches. When she came back, perhaps her spirit would have healed from his abuse.

  When Sarah turned, she nearly ran into Rand Campbell. His big hands came down on her shoulders to steady her, and she looked up into his handsome face. A muscle twitched in his square jaw, and there was no sign of his dimples. She found it hard to read him these days.

  She stepped away. “Sorry I nearly ran you down.”

  His arms fell to his sides. “A tiny thing like you couldn’t knock me down. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m sad to see her go, but at least Ben won’t be able to touch her.” With a parting smile, she turned toward the quarters she shared with Jacob and Amelia.

  The impermanence of her situation gnawed at her. Isaac Liddle seemed to care about her and her little brother Joel, and she suspected he would propose soon. Even though she craved a place of her own, there seemed no real haven for her. She still couldn’t contemplate a future without Rand in it, but she had to figure it out. He was going to marry Jessica, and she had to accept it.

  Snow flurries skated across the landscape as Ben Croftner crossed Fort Laramie’s parade ground and stomped toward the Sioux encampment. The wind poked icy fingers through his thick coat and tried to tear the hat from his head, but he barely noticed the glowering clouds overhead. He had more important things to do this morning than worry about the weather.

  Just let those savages try to stop him from taking Morning Song. His fingers curled into his palms with the desire to smash a face or two. Although the face he really wanted to destroy was Lieutenant
Rand Campbell’s. As he walked in front of the officers’ quarters, someone called his name. He turned to see a red-haired woman waving to him. Her pale skin was flawless, and her full lips turned up in an alluring smile.

  Her lashes fluttered in a come-hither way. “Mr. Croftner.”

  She certainly was beautiful, if you liked the type. Cool and remote. He stopped at the steps and smiled at her. “At your service. I believe I’ve heard of you. You are Miss Jessica DuBois, correct?”

  “I am. Won’t you come in, Mr. Croftner? I think we have something in common.”

  He allowed his gaze to sweep over her until she flushed. “And what would that something be?”

  She lifted her chin and her smile evaporated. “We both want to keep Sarah Montgomery away from Rand Campbell.” She took a step back toward the door. “Won’t you join me for some tea?”

  Morning Song could wait. He followed her inside to a large parlor with a soft flowered carpet on the wood floor. Delicate tables flanked a horsehair sofa and three chairs completed the furnishings. Garden pictures and gold sconces adorned two walls while the fireplace dominated the third. The dining room was through an arched doorway.

  A young, attractive black woman hovered in the doorway, and Jessica glanced at her. “Bring us some tea, please, Rose.”

  Rose nodded and walked out of his sight.

  Jessica indicated one of the chairs. “Have a seat, Mr. Croftner.” When he shrugged out of his coat and sank into the comfortable chair, she settled on the sofa and arranged the folds of her green dress. “I have a plan.”

  As she explained her plan, he began to smile. It was superior in every way to his own. Sarah would learn his vengeance was terrible.

  He crossed his legs. “Tell me more.”

  Rand paused with his group at the North Platte River Bridge. He could see miles in all directions across the plains so it should be safe for the night. He waved to his brother Jacob. “We’ll spend the night here so we’re ready to restring wire for the telegraph in the morning.”

  Jacob nodded and dismounted. He was shorter than Rand and stockier, with dark-brown hair and eyes, but no one was able to miss the clear resemblance between them. He ordered the soldiers to set up camp. Rand pulled the saddle off Ranger and broke some of the ice in the river so the horses could drink. He heard a shout and looked up to see a group of fifteen Sioux, faces painted, charging across the river toward them with shrill war cries.

  Rand dove for his rifle. He lined the sight of the Henry up to his eye and trained it on a young warrior. Rand’s finger paused on the trigger as he saw the youth’s face. He was probably only fifteen, although he looked like he’d seen battle before—he had a livid scar running down one cheek. The boy stared at him defiantly as Rand put pressure on the gun’s trigger.

  Rand shook his head and lowered his rifle long enough for the boy to lift his spear in his hand and wheel around with a bloodcurdling yell.

  “That there was a mighty big mistake, young feller.” Rooster had seen the exchange. “You’ll likely run into him again, and he won’t be so charitable-like.”

  Rooster was probably right. But the warrior had reminded him of his youngest brother, Shane. The same careless free spirit. Rand just couldn’t kill him.

  The weather turned frigid and stayed that way. Days went by with no relief. Finally, the colonel announced a party at Old Bedlam. Rand tried to keep his distance from Sarah, but his gut tightened every time she swept by in Isaac Liddle’s arms with her heart-shaped face turned up to his admiring glance. It was ridiculous to care that his friend was courting her, but Rand couldn’t help the stab of jealousy that pierced his chest when he realized she’d likely marry Isaac.

  Halfway through the party, a sentry rushed in. “Colonel, Spotted Tail is at the Platte!”

  Colonel Maynadier jumped up and clapped his hat atop his thinning blond hair. “Raise the white flag and get my horse ready.” He turned to Rand. “Lieutenant, I hate to drag you away from the festivities, but I need you to accompany me. We’ll ride out to meet Spotted Tail and assure him of our good intentions. This is what I’ve been waiting and hoping for. He’s been with Red Cloud. If Spotted Tail is ready for peace, perhaps Red Cloud is too.”

  Rand nodded. “I’ll meet you at the corral, sir.”

  He followed the colonel and the other officers to the corral and got their horses. At least they were all dressed in their finest. It would show respect to the Sioux. The wind picked up as he swung atop Ranger’s black back and the officers got into formation. They went out to meet the column of Sioux amassing over the rise. The wind carried the chanting to them.

  Frowning, the colonel reined in his horse. “Sounds like a death lament.”

  Rand’s gut tightened. Could Spotted Tail have died? He waited with the rest of the officers by the fort gate as the lament grew louder.

  As the tribe drew nearer, he saw Spotted Tail’s face drawn with grief, so the deceased wasn’t the chief himself. Spotted Tail’s horse dragged a travois with a shrouded body. Rand stared hard at the covered pack, but could see no hint of the victim. His fingers tightened on the reins as a messenger rode forward.

  The Sioux warrior wheeled on his pinto, then went and stopped in front of Maynadier. “Chief Spotted Tail wishes to bury his daughter in the white man’s cemetery. As Ah-ho-appa drew near death, she asked her father to bring her back here. Shall you honor this request?”

  Rand inhaled and glanced over at his brother. This would hit Sarah hard.

  The colonel inclined his head. “I would be honored to have his daughter in the white man’s cemetery.”

  The warrior wheeled again and rode back to the rest of the tribe. Rand couldn’t hear what he said to Spotted Tail, but the chief urged his horse forward until he reached the colonel. He stopped close enough for Rand to see Ah-ho-appa’s face.

  Colonel Maynadier put his hand on his chest. “My heart grieves at your loss, my friend. I hope we can be at peace with your people now.”

  Tears welled up in Spotted Tail’s eyes. “My heart is very sad, and I cannot talk on business. I will wait and see the counselors.”

  “Of course, my friend.”

  Rand fell in with the troops as they rode back to the corral. He didn’t want to think of Sarah’s grief. He shouldn’t care so much about seeing her hurt, but heaven help him, he still did.

  Back at the fort Jacob dismounted, then went to grab Ranger’s halter. “You should be the one to tell Sarah.”

  TWO

  The dance was long over by the time Rand got to the quarters where Sarah lived with Jacob and Amelia. Sarah sat stitching on quilting material in her lap when Rand strode into the parlor. The lamplight cast a soft glow over her glorious red-gold hair, and he caught his breath. She seemed to get lovelier all the time.

  He cleared his throat. “Sarah?”

  She looked up, and her green eyes widened as he stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

  He’d never been able to hide his emotions from her. “I don’t quite know how to tell you except to just say it.” He took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “It’s Ah-ho-appa. She’s dead, Sarah. Pneumonia.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a hard winter, not enough food. She was too weak to fight the lung infection.”

  Sarah stared at him. “No, not Ah-ho-appa.” She reached up and grabbed his hand. “You must be wrong.”

  He squeezed her hand gently. “I’m sorry. I know you loved her.”

  Sarah shook her head. “There must be some mistake.”

  “There’s no mistake. I saw her myself. Her father has asked for her to be buried in the soldier cemetery. He said she wanted to marry a sold
ier.”

  Sarah put her face in her hands and wept. “It’s all my fault. If she hadn’t been friends with me, she would have been content with her life. She would have married some young warrior who would have taken care of her.”

  Rand took her hands and drew her to her feet and into his arms. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you did all you could for her. At least she didn’t go through what Morning Song did.” Rand held her until her weeping was over. “The funeral’s tomorrow. I’ll take you if you want.”

  She lifted her wet face and nodded. “I must tell her parents how much I loved her.”

  Rand couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. He’d always loved her compassion for other people. She was as beautiful inside as she was on the outside.

  Several hundred mourners, consisting of Indians, off-duty soldiers, Colonel Maynadier, as well as Major O’Brien, who had arrived to take over command of Fort Laramie, crowded the parade ground at sunset for the funeral.

  Sarah stood with Amelia in the cemetery. The scaffold beside them rose eight feet in the air. The soldiers had built it to hold the coffin to honor Ah-ho-appa. She couldn’t tear her horrified gaze away from the heads and tails of two white ponies hanging from the structure.

  Amelia, her dark hair tucked into a bonnet, looked that direction and grimaced. “Jacob said the ponies were her favorites, and they were killed to carry her into the afterlife. Their heads are pointed toward the rising sun.” She gestured to a barrel of water. “That’s to quench their thirst before they begin their ride.”

  Sarah shuddered and hugged herself. “It seems so barbaric.”

  She watched the ambulance bring the coffin. A mountain howitzer followed the ambulance. The post band played a solemn march as the Brulé Sioux with Spotted Tail circled the scaffold. Behind them marched most of the men of the garrison, and they formed a large square around the Sioux.