Walks Alone

by Sandi Rog

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, but wanted to shout the words, thrilling in the fact that he did want her, that he never wanted to let her go.

  He captured her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You’ll never lose me.”

  She marveled at his words, barely able to believe they were real. “Please, tell me again what you said. About my name in the wind and the trees.”

  A flash of lightning lit up the urgency in his face. “I’ll tell you. Without words.”

  A clap of thunder exploded in the distance and slowly rolled away. The storm finally faded, as did her innocence.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following morning White Eagle awoke with Anna curled next to him. He propped on an elbow and admired her golden hair streaming around her face. She reminded him of the morning sun with its golden rays lancing over the plains.

  With the tip of his finger, he traced over each freckle sprinkled across her nose. Her lashes lay against her rosy cheeks that had been alarmingly pale the night before. Now she rested peacefully with a contented smile. And her lips that had been blue from the cold were now full and tempting. Unwilling to fight the urge, he leaned down and tasted their sweetness.

  She sighed, and her eyes fluttered open.

  He smiled and feathered his fingers down her slender throat, brushing away a wild strand of hair.

  “Morning Sun,” he said. “That will be your name.”

  She moved against him and rested her head on his arm, gazing up at him with those forest green eyes. “It’s a beautiful name.”

  Finally, she was his. All that he’d been longing for had suddenly come true. Despite the pain, he’d been ready to set her free, to give her the freedom she’d so desperately wanted, and now, all at once, she’d given herself to him. Like a dove set free and ready to take flight, she’d flown right back to him.

  “I love you,” she said.

  His heart quickened. Her voice, soft and melodious, touched the depths of his soul. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, wanting to speak the same soft-spoken words she had uttered to him, but a knot lodged in his throat.

  “Don’t you love me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he managed to choke out. He did love her. He loved her so much it hurt.

  She pushed up on an elbow, her eyes clouded with worry.

  “More than words can say,” he said, amused by her doubt. He lifted her chin and kissed her, lovingly, tenderly. “You are mine, now and forever. I’ll take care of you.” He kissed her again. “We’ll go back to my village and have our own family.”

  “Back to your village?” Her hand rested against his chest, panic in her eyes. “But you’re supposed to take me home.”

  “You’re my wife. Home is with me.”

  She sat bolt upright, covering herself with the buffalo skin. “But you promised—”

  “There’s nothing for you there. You belong with me now.”

  “But you gave me your word.” She stood and grabbed her clothes.

  “How can you still expect me to take you to Denver?” He jumped to his feet and snatched his clothes.

  “We can stop in a town before we reach Denver City and pick up some normal shirts and trousers.” She waved her hand. “Dress you up like a gentleman.”

  Normal shirts and trousers? Sparks of anger flamed. He already had normal clothes. Gentleman? Did she have any clue what a true gentleman was? Had he not been a gentleman, he would have made her his long ago. Besides, was she naïve enough to think their marriage would be accepted by the white men?

  “What could possibly be in Denver City?” he finally asked, exasperated by the conversation they were having.

  “My freedom.” She faced him and whispered, “Home.”

  “Home is with me!”

  Flustered, she straightened in the short buckskin dress. “You promised to take me there.” Then she turned and quickly slipped into her leggings. “I should have known.” Her voice trembled. “You kidnapped me. Why would you have told me the truth?”

  White Eagle strode toward her.

  She stepped back, her eyes wide. He stilled his movements and sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t want to frighten her, but now his blood boiled.

  “I never lied to you,” he said, forcing his tone to a simmering calm. “I told you I’d take you to Denver City when I thought our marriage didn’t mean anything to you. That’s why we’re here!”

  She swallowed visibly. “Our marriage was real from the moment you forced it on me. And whether you thought I thought it was real or not, you still promised to take me to Denver City.”

  “There is nothing for you there.” Saying the name of the city that took his family and now threatened to take his wife made him want to spit fire. “No work, no family, nothing!”

  “You gave me your word.” Her chest heaved. “And now you’re going to break it?”

  Had she lost her mind? He turned and paced the cave. He ought to just throw her over his shoulder and carry her all the way back to his village. She was his now, whether she liked it or not. What was it about Denver that drew her so much? She’d never even been there before. And now, after all that city had done to him, having initiated the massacre on his people, his new bride—who claimed to love him—expected him to take her there?

  “The white man is like a snake. He has no honor and devours the young of his brother.” The words exploded from his mouth.

  “You hate white people?” Her voice was small. “How can you possibly love me?”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I only hate Denver.”

  She studied him, looking at his eyes and then his mouth. Would she give in? “‘Hate’ is such a strong word,” she whispered.

  Growling, he dropped his fists at his sides.

  “I just want—I just need to go there. For years—before I ever left New York,” short quick breaths escaped her lips, “I planned to start a new life for myself—in Denver City. Please. Just let us go there, that’s all I’m asking, and ten—then I’ll go back with you to your village.”

  “You want to go to Denver to gain your freedom, but you’ve already lost it. You won’t be free to do what you please if we went there. You are mine now.”

  Her cheeks turned bright red, and she crossed her arms.

  She had said she loved him. She had said she would go back to his village. And he had promised. He ought to give her what she wanted. No matter how much it hurt, he ought to do this for her. His stomach knotted at the thought of going back to that hateful city, especially now that he really didn’t have to. He raked his hand through his hair and gazed into her wide eyes.

  Wonder played through his mind as he realized her ignorance. She actually believed they, as a married couple, could go to Denver without any persecution from the palefaces. The Cheyenne were more open to mixed marriages than the white man ever would be.

  But what was he thinking? He wasn’t going back there. Ever!

  “We’re not going. That’s final.” He began to pack up their things, anything to distract himself from the small whimpers coming from the other side of the cave.

  To his relief, she began packing. It didn’t take long before she had her carpetbag and packages together.

  He went out to get the horse ready, anything to get out of earshot of her whimpering. As he untied the animal, Anna marched passed him. She marched through the trees, shoulders straight and chin high. The determination in her stride amused him.

  But where was she going? Did she need to relieve herself? Why would she need her carpetbag and package of dresses? Last time she took off with her bag she’d tried to escape.

  She disappeared between the trees.

  Blowing out a breath, he dropped the horse’s reins. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to Denver City,” she snapped.

  “Anna, get back here!” he shouted in the most firm tone he could muster, his voice echoing through the trees.

  But she didn’t com
e.

  “Don’t make me drag you back with me.”

  Quiet.

  “I’ll do it. Get back here, now!” He pointed to the spot in front of him.

  And waited.

  When she still didn’t come, he retied the horse and strode after her. “Women.” He grumbled. No wonder he’d avoided them for so long. She was already hidden between the trees, so he tracked the broken branches and footprints and found the path she’d taken.

  “You’re already heading in the wrong direction, Morning Sun. You’ll never make it.” He stomped through the trees.

  No answer.

  He stopped and listened for her. A few branches stirred ahead. He marched in that direction. When he got his hands on her there was no telling what he’d do.

  When he caught a glimpse of her hair, he picked up his pace.

  She glanced over her shoulder and ran.

  It reminded him of hunting in his youth, but this prey wouldn’t escape. After dodging branches and ignoring her frightened pants and cries, he locked his arms around her waist.

  She dropped her carpetbag and packages, flailing her fists. “Let go of me! I’m going to Denver wit or wit—without you!”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me, my love.” He growled in her ear and felt her bristle.

  “Let me go!”

  He released her.

  She turned to face him, eyes blazing with fury. She lunged at him, fists clenched and teeth barred, but she straightened and stomped her foot. Bending down, she gathered up her things.

  He forced a frown, trying not to laugh at her wild behavior.

  Pressing her belongings to her chest, she marched away—in the wrong direction.

  “Wrong direction again, Morning Sun,” he said, arms folded.

  She kept on walking, so he went after her again, this time impatience ready to boil over.

  He swung her up in his arms, carpetbag and all. Grateful she and her things were light, he strode back with her toward the cave.

  “Nay!” She shrieked and kicked the air.

  Had she gone mad?

  When he spotted a thick bed of pine needles, he bent and dropped her in them.

  The needles hugged around her body, and she stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

  “Who’s in Denver City?” He hissed and knelt over her. If she was willing to go without him, he wondered if there was someone waiting for her.

  She blinked.

  With one arm resting over his knee, he waited for a response.

  She shoved herself up on an elbow, and he pushed her back down, her hair framing her beautiful face. She blinked again, her lips parted.

  He continued to hover over her. “Explain yourself.”

  Moisture welled in her eyes. “My father.”

  He shook his head. “I thought he was—?”

  “He is,” she whispered. “It was his dream.”

  Studying her, he took a long deep breath to control his elevated pulse.

  “Before he’d ever met my mother, he’d traveled to the West, all the way to Denver City,” she said, breathless. “It was his dream to settle there, but he had obligations to his parents. On his way back to Holland, he stayed in New York for several months where he met my mother. They fell in love, got married, and she went back to Holland with him. That’s where I was born; she died giving birth to me.”

  With each deep breath, her chest rose and fell. She swallowed and continued.

  “After her death, he decided it was best to stay with family; all he had were his parents, and I was all he had left of my mother. But after my grandparents died, he couldn’t stop talking about the West. That’s when he decided to leave Holland. To finally fulfill his dream.”

  Tears trickled over her face and into her hair as she relayed the story to him. And now he understood. But one thing bothered him. Not once did she ever mention what she wanted.

  “Do you have dreams of your own?” He touched her soft golden stands streaming in the cushioned bed of needles. “What are your dreams, Morning Sun?”

  “This is my dream.” She furrowed her brows. “I just have to go there. Please. Then I’ll go back with you to your village,” she said in one long breath. “I promise.”

  His anger cooled, and he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. For a long time, he gazed into her desperate eyes, wondering what she expected to find there, how long she expected to stay.

  “I’ll take you,” he finally said. “But . . .” he held her gaze and tried not to clench his teeth, “we’re not staying.”

  To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tank—thank you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she kissed him all over his face.

  The joy in her eyes made this gift worth the pain. He wouldn’t have to stay long anyway.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sun cast columns of light between the trees surrounding them, and the horse’s hooves crunching pinecones echoed off the surrounding woods as they made their way toward Denver City. Anna wore the buckskin leggings Song Bird had given her, and the slit cut dress made it possible to straddle the horse, which was very awkward.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He lifted her leg so she sat sideways. She cuddled up against him, resting her cheek on his chest. She would always be his. Just like the biblical words, she and White Eagle had become one flesh, and now she understood its meaning. The innocence she’d lost made her recall a young maidservant who’d worked briefly for her uncle. He’d promised to marry her, and she’d given herself to him. Shortly thereafter, he’d dismissed the poor girl. Anna would never forget the devastation in the girl’s eyes when she’d left that day. Now she understood the valuable gift the girl had given.

  What if in the end White Eagle decided he didn’t want her? What if he changed his mind, like her uncle? She’d practically forced him to say he loved her. What if he suddenly decided that their marriage meant nothing?

  She took a deep breath, trying not to worry. He was taking her to Denver City, despite the fact that he clearly didn’t want to go there. That ought to tell her he loved her. She took comfort in that thought. At last, she was going home. Her dreams would finally come true, and then she would be ready to begin new ones.

  In Denver she’d no longer be his captive, just his wife. Once there, she would be free. If not literally, then in her mind and in her heart.

  Her city of dreams, of dreams come true.

  Home.

  A cluster of birds flurried to the sky.

  She glanced up at White Eagle. He reined in and tensed his grip. “Shhhh. Don’t say a word.” His breath came hot against her ear.

  She froze.

  He pointed between the trees.

  As she followed his finger, she spotted fur, then whiskers, and the eyes of what looked like a cat watching them.

  White Eagle slowly dismounted. “Stay on the horse,” he said.

  He moved away and grabbed his tomahawk in one hand. Why didn’t he just get his rifle and shoot the creature? Fear gripped her like hands around her throat. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Even the horse stood frozen, as if he also knew danger was near.

  White Eagle moved like a cat, turning his tomahawk as he distanced himself from her. She wished he’d stay near and not leave her so alone. He was just a few feet away, but at that moment it felt like miles. And worse, what if the cat got him? Hurt him?

  With a loud hiss, White Eagle sprang from the ground as if he would pounce on the animal. The cat scurried away into the woods.

  He strode back to the horse and tucked away his tomahawk.

  “Why didn’t you kill it?” she asked.

  “No need.” He shrugged. “Mountain lions only attack if you’re alone. If it’s outnumbered, it usually won’t go in for the kill.” He mounted the horse and took her in his arms. “He must have thought we’d make a mighty fine meal.” He growled against her neck.

  She jumped,
clutching his arm.

  He chuckled.

  “That’s not funny,” she said, finding it impossible to repress a smile.

  That evening, they came upon a small log house where lights glowed from the windows. White Eagle helped her dismount, and she followed him as he led the horse into a small barn.

  “Where are we?” she whispered. He had been so quiet, she felt like she was breaking some unknown rule by speaking.

  “Mountain Jack’s. We’ll stay with him for the night.”

  “Is there a town nearby?” She was certain she’d heard distant town noises just before coming upon Jack’s place.

  “Crystal Springs.” He took her carpetbag and other belongings and strode toward the house. White Eagle opened the creaking door, allowing her to go in first as he followed behind. Wooden flooring and leather filled her senses.

  “Jack, you here?”

  “You bet your moccasins I’m here,” a rickety voice called from a room on the far side of the cabin. “Where else would I be? ’Bout time you got back. Joe’s been lookin’ for you.” An old man with bull legs and a frazzled beard came in from a back room.

  He stopped and stared at Anna.

  Two scars ran down the side of the old man’s face. “Well, well.” The old man’s smile revealed a few missing teeth.

  “We need a place to stay for the night,” White Eagle said.

  “Well now, this here lady is more than welcome.” He rubbed his beard and chuckled. “A white Indian. Never seen one like you before.” He motioned with his chin toward White Eagle. “You sure know how to pick ’em.”

  “She’s from the East.”

  “We’re going to Denver,” Anna said cheerfully.

  “Denver City?” The old man straightened and his eyes narrowed. “How long has it been since you moseyed on down that way?” He eyed White Eagle and shook his head, rubbing his beard. “Not since . . . well . . . . And now you’re takin’ a lady there? Hmm, not so sure that’s a good idea, if you ask me.” The old man lowered his chin and raised his brows in a suggestive manner.

  “Nobody asked you.” White Eagle frowned.

  Anna forced her gaze on the room around her, trying to ignore the tension rising between the two men and hoping this man Jack didn’t change White Eagle’s mind about going to Denver. The stone fireplace held a warm and inviting fire. She stepped onto a bear rug to get near the flames so she could warm her hands. Before the fireplace was a chair, and next to it an oil lamp sat on a table. Against the wall, a closed cupboard likely stored pots, pans, and dishes. Opposite the chair and cupboard, near the door, stood a small dining table with another lamp. The house definitely needed a woman’s touch. Nothing hung on the walls except animal heads. One bear, a deer, and a . . . .