He had probably surmised that she was dead.
Tears came to her eyes, for even though she had wanted to hate George Whaley for who he had been in his younger years, she could not forget the good times they had known together.
He had loved her.
He had tried to give her the world to make up for what he had taken from her. She had never wanted for anything . . . except the knowledge of who her true people were.
Now that George Whaley was dead, neither she nor Storm was going to achieve vengeance. If George was dead, how could they? He would never know that she left him because she wanted to. He would never know that she was reunited with her true mother and people of her own tribe.
“Shoshana?”
A familiar voice drew her quickly around.
Colonel Hawkins stepped into the room. “Shoshana, I knocked on the door, but when you didn’t come I became alarmed,” he said. “I was told you had arrived at the fort. I had to come and tell you how glad I am that you are safe. We had all thought you were . . .” His gaze swept slowly over her. “The way you are dressed . . .” he began, a troubled note in his voice.
Then, noticing the way she was looking at George, seeming not to even hear him, Colonel Hawkins glanced quickly at the other man.
When he leaned over and saw George’s eyes and their transfixed stare, he gasped. “Lord, oh, Lord,” he said. “He’s dead.”
“I found him that way,” Shoshana said, setting the lamp on a table beside the bed. “I feel responsible. Had I not left . . .”
Colonel Hawkins went to her. He took her hands. “Do not blame yourself,” he said softly. “From what I have noticed, your father has been having trouble with his heart. It was only a matter of time. Do not blame yourself for what was going to happen anyway.”
Shoshana slid her hands free. She hurried from the room.
Carrying the lamp, Colonel Hawkins came after her. He followed her into her room and set the lamp on a table. “Shoshana, I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “And don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. I imagine we should bury him in our small cemetery. And, Shoshana, he will get a full military funeral.”
“I knew you would see to that,” Shoshana said, recalling the many funerals she’d attended back in Missouri and at the other military forts. “Thank you.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Colonel Hawkins asked, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Shoshana said, nodding.
“I’ll send someone soon for the body,” Colonel Hawkins said. “Then you get some rest. And do you want food? Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” she said, swallowing hard, for she was taking this death much worse than she would have imagined.
“I’ll tell the soldiers not to disturb you in any way,” Colonel Hawkins said.
“Thank you,” Shoshana murmured. “I appreciate all that you are doing for me.”
“I wish I could do more,” he said, then walked from the house, leaving Shoshana alone with her thoughts, and her guilt.
“What must I do?” she whispered to herself, pacing. She had not expected to feel so torn. Should she stay and attend the funeral?
But, no. Storm was waiting for her. And she truly didn’t want to be a part of the funeral.
She walked to a window and gazed up at the sky. It was finally dark. And there wasn’t any trace of a moon. Escaping would be easy, for that was what she had decided to do. She would leave this place as soon as she could.
She would leave a note, but not the one she had originally planned. She would explain to the colonel how she felt about things and that she needed time alone; she would ask him not to send anyone to look for her.
She would explain that she had her future mapped out, and beg him to respect her privacy.
But she wouldn’t give any details. He would just have to accept that she was gone.
She hoped he wouldn’t come looking for her. She doubted that he would. She was nothing to him. He might even be glad that she was gone.
Returning to her original task, Shoshana carried the lamp into the room where the trunks and bags were stored. After placing the lamp on the floor, she sat down before a distinctive-looking trunk. She knew it was the one that held Dorothea’s things, but now she recognized it as similar to ones she’d seen in Apache lodges. It was made of rawhide. In the Apache trunks, ceremonial garments and other articles were stored when they were not in use. She suspected that George had stolen this from an Apache home before . . . before . . . burning it.
Slowly she lifted the lid. Everything inside was neatly organized. She saw some of her mother’s pretty dresses and jewelry, a pile of her lovely lace hankies, a Bible, and other personal items.
The first thing she took from the trunk was a dress of her mother’s which she decided to take. She would never forget how beautiful and petite her mother had been. The dress was made of a beautiful soft, silky gauze. It was an almost translucent material.
She also took a lovely embroidered hankie that had been her mother’s, and a few other small, personal items.
When she saw a piece of maroon velvet folded neatly at the bottom, she raised her eyebrows curiously. The velvet was wrapped around something.
“What could it be?” Shoshana whispered, lifting the velvet piece onto her lap.
Slowly she unfolded a corner, then felt the blood rush from her face when she got her first glimpse of . . . of . . .
No!
Oh, surely it wasn’t what she thought it was!
But after unfolding the velvet wrapping, she felt sick to her stomach to discover a scalp.
The hair was not an Indian’s.
It was golden!
George Whaley had surely killed a white woman and taken her scalp. But why would he, unless . . . unless he found that woman living with Indians?
Then her heart seemed to drop to her toes. She recalled how Storm had described his mother as a golden-haired princess, so beautiful.
Could this be her scalp?
Shoshana was sickened by the thought that this man she had once loved had been vicious and heart-less enough to take a white woman’s scalp, and had even kept it as a sort of spoils of war . . . as a trophy!
Was that how he had seen Shoshana?
As a trophy of sorts?
Was that why he had taken her? Had his first intention been to take her back to the fort to show her off, and then . . . then . . . kill her?
Sobbing, she folded the hair back inside the velvet wrap. She took it with her and stood over George’s dead body, which had yet to be removed. “Why?” she sobbed. “Why? How? How could you have killed and scalped a white woman? Why did you keep the scalp? Was it something you were proud of?”
The fact was that he had done this terrible deed. It was something she would never understand or be able to forget.
“Shoshana?”
Colonel Hawkins’s voice drew her quickly around.
She glanced down at the velvet wrapping, panicking that the colonel might find her with it. What if he had seen it and knew that the wrapping held a scalp within its folds?
Colonel Hawkins came into the room with four other soldiers.
Her heart pounded as she awaited his reaction to what she was holding, but when he didn’t seem a bit interested in it, she assumed that he had never been shown George Whaley’s “prize.”
She watched as George’s body was removed; then when the colonel came to her and gave her a tender gaze, she smiled up at him, still holding the velvet wrapping in her arms.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” the colonel said, turning to leave. He stopped as he noticed what she held. “I see that you’ve found something of your mother’s to keep. That’s good, Shoshana. That’s good.”
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ll send word ahead that we need a stagec
oach brought here for your return to Missouri,” he said. “That is where you want to go, isn’t it?”
She was taken aback by the question.
She had not thought ahead to what would be expected of her. “Yes,” she quickly said. “Yes, I would like to be taken to Missouri. I have a lot of friends there.”
“I knew you did,” the colonel said. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Try to get some rest, Shoshana. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He started to leave, but again stopped and turned to gaze at her. “Shoshana, I think you’d like to know that many things point to Mountain Jack’s death,” he said. “We found his horse . . . and the scalps he was carrying with him. The horse was badly injured. We believe it was a panther attack. Apparently, Mountain Jack was dragged away by the panther.”
“Lord,” Shoshana gulped out.
“Just thought you’d like to know that he won’t bother you ever again, or take any more scalps,” he said. “You see, we know you were taken prisoner by the man. We found your bandanna there.”
Shoshana gazed down at what she still held . . . the scalp . . . then looked quickly up at him again. “Yes, I was taken captive by that man. And . . . and . . . thank you for telling me that he is dead,” she murmured.
“I have to ask, Shoshana,” Colonel Hawkins said, an eyebrow lifting. “Did Mountain Jack harm you in any way?”
“No, he didn’t harm me,” she murmured.
“How did you get away?” Colonel Hawkins asked.
Shoshana was beginning to feel trapped. She was not a skilled liar. But neither would she want to tell of Storm’s role in all of this.
“He was careless,” she murmured. “After he left to deliver the scalps and pelts to the man who bought them from him, I was able to unlock the chain that held me prisoner.”
“The dress?” Colonel Hawkins asked, gazing at it. “He gave it to you to wear?”
“I found it among his things,” Shoshana said softly, her lies deepening. “My clothes were quite soiled. I was eager to exchange them for something cleaner.”
“You were gone for so long,” Colonel Hawkins said questioningly.
“I had trouble finding my way down the mountain,” she said. “I was lucky I finally arrived here, out of harm’s way.”
“Well, there isn’t anything to worry about now,” Colonel Hawkins said. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Shoshana smiled and nodded as she watched him leave.
Then she hurriedly gathered together her mementos and placed them, along with the velvet wrapping and its golden hair, in a small travel bag.
Then she sat on the couch in the living room before a fire that she had just lit and waited for everyone at the fort to retire for the night, and for the sentries to carelessly fall asleep.
Finally she was able to flee into the night. She hurried through the darkness, making sure no one saw her. She was glad when she reached the outer fringe of the aspen forest where Storm still waited for her.
She set the bag down on the ground and flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Storm, it’s so awful,” she cried, clinging.
“What is so awful?” he asked, holding her close. “Leaving him? Do you regret leaving him, after all?”
She stepped away from him. “No, it’s not that,” she murmured. She reached for the bag and opened it. Slowly she removed the velvet bundle. “No. This is what I find so awful,” she said, her voice breaking.
She unfolded the velvet wrapping.
She watched Storm’s reaction as the moon slid from behind the clouds, sending its bright light down onto the golden hair.
“Where . . . did . . . you get this?” he gasped out.
She explained about everything that had happened since her arrival back at the fort, about finding George Whaley dead, and then finding the scalp.
“This is my mother’s hair,” Storm said, tears filling his eyes. “I would know it anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Shoshana murmured. “I did not know the fiend I was living with until recently.”
“And now he is dead,” Storm said thickly.
“Yes, dead,” Shoshana murmured.
“I must take this and place my mother’s hair at our people’s burial grounds,” Storm said, placing the scalp within the velvet again, and folding the corners so that the scalp was hidden from his sight. “Although I no longer know exactly where her grave is, if I place the scalp among the graves of our people, her spirit will find it there and be able to rest again in total peace.”
After Shoshana’s belongings were secured at the side of Storm’s horse, he came to her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her sweetly, then lifted her onto the saddle.
He mounted behind her and they rode off together, now as one, their shadows merging in the moonlight, their hearts beating like the same drum. The far-off singing of a coyote could be heard in high staccato notes.
Shoshana tried to think of some happier topic than these last hours.
She smiled as she thought of her and Storm’s upcoming marriage.
She would wear her adopted mother’s favorite dress. Dorothea Whaley had been all sweetness and loveliness.
Although Shoshana wanted to look like an Apache for her wedding, she wanted to remember her mother Dorothea and her sweetness in her own special way . . . by wearing her dress.
In her mind, she knew she would never understand why George Whaley had kept the scalp, or even why he had taken a five-year-old child that day, and then kept her.
Had he been so proud of playing the role of a murdering cavalry leader that he could never totally let go of it?
In the end, his actions had condemned him in Shoshana’s eyes forever and erased whatever good feelings she had ever felt for him. Her ambivalence was over.
Now she was at peace with herself about everything.
She had her future with Storm and her true mother to cherish.
They rode onward into the night. She leaned back against him, his arm holding her in place.
“I love you so much,” she murmured. “You make me feel whole . . . you make me feel Apache!”
She knew she had told him that before, but she could not resist telling him again, for she was so glad to have found him.
Chapter Twenty-four
What is love? It is the morning and
the evening star.
—Sinclair Lewis
The deed done, his mother’s beautiful hair now buried among his Apache ancestors, Storm and Shoshana rode on awhile, then made camp for the rest of the night.
He awakened early in the morning before Shoshana and found sweet, fat berries for their breakfast, which would be eaten with the pemmican he always carried in the parfleche bag that hung at the side of his steed.
Although Shoshana had told him Mountain Jack was no longer a threat, Storm left her again only long enough to gather dry wood to add to the glowing coals of their campfire.
Then he sat, watching her sleep. On her lovely face he saw peace and happiness, for she knew that soon they would become man and wife, never to part from one another again.
Also, she was looking forward to being with her mother. But Storm was concerned about that. He knew that Fawn had not been well for some time now and that her days on this earth were numbered.
He had prayed to Maheo that Shoshana would be given some more time with her before Fawn took her last breath.
He watched Shoshana stirring, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes slowly opened. When she found him sitting there watching her, she reached a hand out to him.
“Good morning,” she murmured, stifling a lazy yawn behind her other hand.
He took her hand, turned it so that he could kiss its palm, then knelt down over her and gathered her into his arms. “It is good to awaken with you at my side,” he said huskily. “Never shall my blankets, or yours, be cold again. As soon as arrangements can be made, we will marry.”
He brushed soft kisses along her brow. “Does that make
you happy?” he whispered against her lips.
“Oh, so very much,” Shoshana whispered back, her arms twining around his neck.
Although the night had been cool and windy, they had slept nude beneath their blankets. They had made love before falling into an exhausted sleep.
She hungered for the same this morning, more than she wished for anything else at this moment.
While he had still been asleep, she had awakened and crept from their blankets to wash herself so that she would be fresh for him when he awoke. Then, tired from her ordeal, she had fallen asleep again.
They had much to celebrate, although their happiness was tinged with some sadness. His sadness was for his mother, whose death had been recalled so vividly by the sight of her scalp. The pain of losing her had begun anew, as fresh as it had been those years ago when he was a boy, soon to walk in the moccasins of a man.
The prior evening his mother had filled his heart and soul as he held her golden hair before placing it in the ground.
Shoshana would never forget the gentleness with which Storm had laid the hair in the small grave he had dug for it.
She would never forget the words of love he spoke to his mother as he slowly filled the grave with dirt, saying that he regretted not being able to place her hair with her body in the ground, but that he knew her spirit dwelled there among the spirits of all the other Apache dead.
Tears sprang to Shoshana’s eyes when she recalled how he had said that his mother and father could now walk hand in hand amid the stars with smiles on their faces, for the man who’d taken his mother’s hair no longer had it in his possession.
Shoshana’s thoughts of these things were stilled when Storm swept aside the blanket that covered her. Then he blanketed her with his body as his hands moved over her soft flesh and his lips came down on hers in a passionately hot kiss.
When he filled her with his heat, she lifted her legs and brought them around his hips, giving him easier access to her.
As they kissed and he held her in a torrid embrace, their bodies moved rhythmically together.
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