Aiden listened to the conversation in awe. They’d made a deal with the entire army. Only Marcus Young and Stone Heart knew everything about his relationship to George Armstrong Custer. Libbie Custer would see that anything Young had written would be branded as lies. In return for his silence, Stone Heart would not be shot.
“General Crook had a lot to do with this,” Young added, “but I don’t think he’ll ever admit it. All he wanted was for it to go away. Bad enough what Wessells and these men did to those Cheyenne, and that won’t go away so easily. But for the army to turn around and execute a man who was only helping those same poor Cheyenne escape their evil clutches, well, that just wouldn’t do at all. Not as far as Crook was concerned. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wessells isn’t sent to some outpost so remote he’ll never see civilization again.”
“Oh, no, they mustn’t,” she said, thinking of her dear friend.
Stone Heart hugged Aiden even closer. “As long as they don’t send him where we’re going.”
“And where might that be?” Young asked.
“Well, we have to leave the States, so if Aiden agrees, I’m thinking of California. The army gave me an education, and I suppose I ought to use it. Who knows, I might one day be in the legislature out there.”
Head spinning, she gazed up at him. “How will we get there? We have only my small purse of money, the clothes on our backs, and those few supplies Meeker traded for.”
“Oh, we have a bit more than that,” he replied and smiled at Young.
“It seems the army wants us to be comfortable in our exile. At least after I discussed our needs with them. They are supplying us with tickets on the Union Pacific and enough money to see us through a few months until we get settled. They’ll take us down to the station tomorrow.”
She could hardly believe it. “Why would they do that?”
“Well, let’s say it’s my share of what they owe the Cheyenne for stealing their homes. Would you like to marry here or wait until we arrive at our new home in California?” he asked, gazing down at her with eyes sparkling.
“Are you sure about all this? I mean, life as a white man may not suit you.”
He laughed and hugged her again. “I’m sure we can occasionally go wild out there in California.”
“You’ll always be my ferocious warrior.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, right there in the middle of Post Headquarters, surrounded by cheering reporters and befuddled soldiers.
A word about the author...
Velda Brotherton lives with her husband in the Boston Mountains of Arkansas. She designed and helped build the house in which they live. She continues to write historical books, both fiction and nonfiction. Her previously published western historical romances, written under the pseudonyms of Elizabeth Gregg and Samantha Lee, will soon be available as e-books.
For more information, check her website at
www.veldabrotherton.com
or contact her at
velda at veldabrotherton.com
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