Zane shifted his weight. “What do you mean, sir?” His brows knit together. “If you don’t understand, how am I supposed to help?”
“The woman isn’t Sioux.”
“So is she Cheyenne?”
“No. She’s white.”
Zane thought he’d misunderstood. “White?”
The doctor gave a deep sigh. “That’s right. As I washed her wounds I realized she wasn’t Indian at all. She’s as fair as either of us. Speaks English perfectly well.”
“Come to think of it, I spoke to her in English and she had no trouble understanding,” Zane remembered.
The doctor shook his head. “She said she was taken hostage by the Sioux. The baby is the result of being raped by a Sioux warrior. Seems she hated the tribe as much as we do, but she loves that baby.”
“What do we do?”
They moved toward the tent. “Come with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zane followed the doctor inside. He turned to secure the flap and give them more light as evening set upon them. This accomplished, he turned and beheld the woman for several moments. His eyes widened at the sight. She was clean now, her dark brown hair smoothed back from her face and flowing freely down her back. She watched him with the same intent interest with which he watched her.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
She was the spitting image of Susannah Chadwick—his mother.
Without thinking, Zane realized the truth. “Ardith?” he asked, remembering his feisty ten-year-old sister who’d disappeared so many years ago in a swollen river. They’d all believed her to have drowned.
The woman eyed him critically. “I knew it was you. But I didn’t know which one of the twins you were until that soldier called your name. I told the doctor you were my brother.”
He felt awash in emotion. She had often called the twin brothers by their combined names to save time and effort. He used to get mad at her laziness, figuring that everyone could tell him from his twin, Morgan. Now, however, it would sound wondrous to his ears.
“It’s really you, Ardith.” He went to her and knelt beside her. “I can’t believe you’re alive. We searched up and down that river—miles and miles.” He felt his voice break and choked back tears. How could it be that she was here—alive, after so many years?
“Pawnee found me,” she offered. “They pulled me from the river. I don’t remember it, though. I was sick for days after that.” She closed her eyes. “It wasn’t so bad with the Pawnee. They tried to find the wagon train once they knew who I was, but you’d gone ahead too far. They never caught up.” She opened her eyes and fixed them on Zane’s face. “A few years after that, the Sioux stole me away in a raid.”
“I can’t believe it.” He reached out to touch her, but she recoiled. Her action startled Zane. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s been hard.” She looked to the sleeping baby and then back to her brother. “It’s been very hard.”
Zane looked up to the doctor. “Is she going to be all right? Is she healthy? Can she travel?”
“She’s in good physical condition,” the doctor stated evenly. “I can’t imagine her mental state being as good, however. She’s had to live among the Indians and face unspeakable things. Death would probably have been better for her.”
Zane shot up and came nose to nose with the captain. “How Dare you! This is my sister you’re talking about.”
“She was your sister. Look at her now. Do you really want her back in this condition?”
Zane bit back an angry retort. Squaring his shoulders, he never blinked. “She’s my sister, and that baby is my niece or nephew.”
“Yes, but where can she live? Who would take her in now, knowing that she’s lived among the savages? Civilized people aren’t going to think much of what she’s been through. They’ll worry that her experiences will somehow taint them. Where can you possibly hope to find refuge for her—for this child who will so clearly be of Indian ancestry?”
Zane knew the answer immediately. “Our sister, Dianne, will take her with open arms. She lives on a ranch in the western part of this territory. I’ll put in for a leave immediately and take Ardith and the baby to her.”
The older man put his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Do you know what you’re doing? Are you certain your sister won’t be horrified?”
“I’m certain. She’ll only see that the lost has been found. She’ll only know that her sister has come back from the dead.”
CHAPTER 3
THE STREETS OF BOZEMAN SEEMED STRANGELY VOID OF activity that Fourth of July. Dianne felt rather let down, and had it not been for her excitement at seeing all the stores and knowing the possibility of a wide selection of goods, she might have lost interest in their arrival altogether. Gazing down the street, Dianne wondered at the contents of each building. Many had chosen to replace earlier wooden structures with brick. It reminded her of towns back East.
“Bozeman has certainly grown,” she said under her breath.
Having lived in the territory for nearly twelve years, Dianne had missed the bustle of the city. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in a big town, and she’d definitely forgotten what it was to have a multitude of choices in supplies and goods. Bozeman City wasn’t all that large, but it was by far and away the biggest town in this part of the territory, and the shopping looked promising.
“My, but it is exciting,” Faith declared as they maneuvered the wagons on Main Street.
Dianne and Faith had chosen to ride together so Faith could help with the children. “Cole said there were very nearly ten general stores and a variety of specialty shops. There’s even a milliner, and I definitely intend to take advantage of that. My hats are all so old. Why, this bonnet I’m wearing is near to bare threads,” Dianne said, pulling her team to a stop as Cole motioned her to the side of the dirt street.
He rode up and smiled. “I doubt there’s a single shop open today, but tomorrow we’ll purchase everything we need. I’m going to go ask where we might camp for the night. We don’t want to get ourselves in trouble on our first night.”
Dianne nodded and took the reins he handed her after dismounting. “You should probably let Malachi know what you’re doing since he’s driving the other wagon.”
“I’ll let him know, Dianne,” Cole replied, his tone clipped. “I had already thought of that. Just figured to tell you first.”
She bit her tongue. It seemed nothing she said was ever quite right. On the other hand, why did she doubt that he’d think to tell Malachi? She’d once again proved she lacked faith in his ability. Yet she honestly didn’t feel that way. Did she?
“I can’t believe the children all fell asleep. They were so excited about coming to the big city,” Faith said with a chuckle. She rubbed her rounding abdomen. “ ’Course, this one didn’t sleep much.”
“I hope the long ride wasn’t too much for you,” Dianne said, unable to hide her concern. “I slept well enough last night. The sound of the river rippling along soothed me. Were you comfortable?”
“We were fine. Mercy was a bit frightened sleeping outside and all. I might have her sleep in the wagon with Daniel and me tonight.”
At ages five and two—Daniel’s second birthday was today, in fact—Faith’s children wavered between absolute daring and total fear. Faith had told Dianne that it was simply the way children were at that age.
“Mercy positively insisted on sleeping out under the stars with her papa,” Faith chuckled. “There was no convincing her otherwise.”
“She never fails to amaze me,” Dianne said, grinning. “She’s so ladylike sometimes, and other times she’s like a prairie storm.”
“That’s for sure. Still, I’m real pleased with the way both of them handled the trip.” Faith looked away, shaking her head. “Those babies have traveled farther in their short lives than I ever hoped to in my growing up years. I was an adult in full before I set out more than five miles from the planta
tion.”
“Did your owner never take you anywhere with him? I thought slaves often traveled with the family.”
“My master never traveled much at all. Never saw any need in it,” Faith replied. “If something had to be done, he usually sent one of his men to do it. I used to dream of traveling to faraway places and seeing the world, but I never figured it’d come to pass. Sure never figured to be in Montana Territory like this.”
Dianne reached over and patted Faith’s hand. “It’s wondrous, this life God has brought us to. There are times when it feels like just yesterday we were struggling across the plains—worrying about sickness and having enough water.” She felt a pang of sorrow at the memory. Dianne always avoided thinking about the wagon train trip that had brought them west—the images were so bittersweet. Ardith was lost to the river, and Betsy had died from a mule kick to the head. They hadn’t been long in the territory at all when Dianne’s pregnant mother, Susannah, had died as well.
“You’re thinking about your family, aren’t you?” Faith asked softly.
“I can’t help myself. There are times when I still expect them to come through the door. Sometimes when I’m alone I swear I can hear Mama calling me. I know it’s not her, but it seems so real that it makes me miss her all the more.”
Dianne shifted and shook her head. “She wasn’t always … disturbed, like you saw her on the wagon train. Her dependence on laudanum no doubt affected her mind. She was a good mother, though I sometimes longed for more affection from her. It was just her way.”
Dianne pushed the sorrow from her mind and forced a smile.
“I know I’ll feel better when I see Zane—or at least hear from him. Morgan sent a letter last week, but I’ve not had any word from Zane in so long. The rumors about the Indian wars leave me worrying something fierce over him.”
“You’re bound to hear something soon. Just be patient and enjoy the holiday. Freedom is such a precious thing.”
“Indeed,” Dianne agreed. She glanced up to see Faith grimace. “Are you all right? Are you sure the trip wasn’t too hard on you?”
Faith laughed. “I feel just fine. A little ride to town didn’t hurt us any.”
Dianne shook her head. “It was more than a little ride.” She eyed Faith to detect any action that might contradict her statement.
“I’m fine, Dianne. Stop worrying over me like a mother hen. I’m tired—I’ll admit to that. Baby’s kicking hard too, but nothing more. I’m too excited about the celebration.”
Cole returned about that time, looking somber. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to dampen his spirits.
“Dianne Selby, isn’t it?” a feminine voice called from the boardwalk.
Looking down, Dianne met the smiling face of Portia McGuire. No, she’d married Ned Langford. She was Portia Langford now. Portia and Ned had accompanied Trenton when he first arrived in Montana. “Why, Mrs. Langford, it’s nice to see you again. Is your husband nearby?” Dianne looked past the woman to see if Ned was anywhere in sight. Her brother Trenton often spoke fondly of Ned; the two had been friends long before the man had married Portia McGuire. Trenton would be thrilled to know Ned was in town. Dianne turned to Cole. “Look, Cole, Portia Langford is in town. I was just asking her about her husband.” She turned back to Portia and waited for her response.
Portia frowned and put a handkerchief to her face. “I’m afraid my dear Ned has departed life on earth.”
Stunned, Dianne looked to Cole, willing him to speak. “We’re sure sorry to hear that, Mrs. Langford.”
“I blame the Grant administration,” she said, startling them all.
“President Grant?” Faith asked.
Portia looked at her rather hostilely. “I’m not in the habit of answering the questions of Negroes, but yes, President Grant. Had he not demonetized silver, leaving gold as the standard for banking, silver might have retained its value. Instead, so much that my dear Neddy worked for was no longer worth much of anything.”
Dianne could not tolerate the woman’s condescending tone. “Faith is a good friend, Mrs. Langford. I would appreciate your treating her civilly.”
Portia’s eyes narrowed, but her voice was smooth and sweet. “I do apologize. Things here in the West are simply so very different from life in the rest of the country. It’s a much less refined land, and the manners follow suit by nature of the setting.”
Dianne’s temper was getting the better of her. She opened her mouth to retort, but Cole had already begun to speak.
“Excuse me for askin’, but I don’t understand what role the devaluing of silver played in the death of your husband.” He pulled his horse in closer as two wild riders went barreling down the street in an obvious race.
“My husband took his life,” Portia said, dabbing at tears. “He couldn’t bear that we were to be without financial means. Why, his poor father took to his sick bed upon hearing the news and with Neddy’s death … well, he like to have suffered an attack of his heart. He’s better now, however. I am at least blessed to report that much.”
“I am sorry about your husband,” Dianne said, shaking her head. It was only then that she noted the young woman’s attire. A rich plum foulard draped Portia’s hourglass frame in a most stylish creation. She hardly looked the part of grieving widow, with exception to her handkerchief.
“I came back to Bozeman to make amends with my father,” Portia said, tucking away the lace-edged cloth, along with all reference to Ned. She straightened. “The army is away from the fort. I’ve been at the hotel for the past two days, sick with a blinding headache, so I’ve had no time to find out if they’ve returned. I was just setting out for answers when I caught sight of you.”
“We hoped to see my brother Zane, as well as celebrate Independence Day with the rest of the town,” Dianne offered in explanation of the reason for their presence. “The army rode out earlier in the spring, and we haven’t had word since. They were in pursuit of the Sioux and Cheyenne, as I understood it.”
“What’s she doing here?” Trenton asked as he walked up alongside the wagon.
“Trenton, I didn’t know you were here,” Dianne declared. “I thought you were busy running errands for Cole.”
“I was,” he replied, still eyeing Portia with caution. “Where’s Ned?”
Portia stiffened. “He’s passed on.”
Trenton stepped closer to the woman. “What did you say?”
“I said he’s dead.” She looked up and stared him hard in the eye. “He killed himself.”
Trenton was notably upset, but he held back his reply and looked to Dianne. “I’m afraid there’s more bad news. That’s why I came to find you.” He held up a piece of paper for Dianne, Faith, and Cole to see. “There’s been a big battle over the mountains to the east. Along the Little Big Horn River.”
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you,” Cole declared as Dianne eyed him accusingly. “I only heard it myself a few minutes ago, and I came right back to tell you.”
Dianne dropped the paper, not able to read the words. “Zane?”
Trenton shook his head. “No one knows. They weren’t in the opening battle, as you’ll see in that report. General Custer and all of his men are dead, however. Colonel Reno has lost a lot of men as well. All told, some three hundred fifteen men are lost. The article says General Gibbon joined Reno and the Indians left, but …”
“But what?” Dianne asked, unable to bear the thought of a battle that killed over three hundred men.
“They’re sure to pursue the Indians. No one can just let them go—not now.”
Dianne felt the joy of the day slip from her. Her shoulders slumped forward as she closed her eyes in sorrow. “He has to be all right. Oh, how could this have happened?”
“It happened because we’ve stupidly settled this part of the country instead of leaving it to the savages,” Portia declared.
Dianne opened her eyes and glared at the woman. “Your own father is among the troops. I tho
ught you said you came here to make amends.”
“My desire to make amends with my father has nothing to do with the army and its mistakes,” she replied defiantly. “I care about the man, not his job.”
“Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?” Trenton asked sarcastically.
“Since Ned died and I realized that life is too short to let anger stand between myself and others.” She pulled the handkerchief back out and dabbed her eyes again. “I’ve been attending church, and I’ve come to realize the error of my ways.”
“Well, it’s too late,” Trenton answered in anger. “Ned is gone. You can’t make that right.”
Portia broke into sobs and buried her face in her gloved hands.
Dianne felt compassion for her. “Trenton, that was rather harsh. You mustn’t say such things just because you’re hurting in your loss. The important thing now is that we need to find out the truth of what’s happening with the army.”
“Better still,” Cole said, his voice bearing his concern, “what’s happening with the Sioux and Cheyenne?”
The centennial celebration of America’s freedom from the English was a muted affair. People were afraid. Custer was dead—the very man whom many had hoped to elect that year to the presidency.
Rumors ran unchecked and Dianne had to admit her fears were bordering on silent hysteria. Inside she felt herself coming undone, like a knitting project unraveling before her eyes. Luke had struggled against sleep because of her unrest. He’d finally settled down for the night, but try as she might, Dianne couldn’t seem to do likewise. Nor could she find any solace in her husband’s words.
She kept thinking back to her dream, knowing it had been a forewarning of things to come. Perhaps the Sioux and Cheyenne would cross the mountains and wipe out white settlements as they went. They had tasted the blood of victory and were no Doubt driven to continue their rampage.
To Dream Anew Page 3